Crescent Moon
by katemary77
Summary: Years after the battle on Badon Hill, Lancelot has resigned himself to a loveless life, ever watching from the sidelines. But his hope is slowly restored when he meets a young woman, who fills his world with light, like the rising moon.
1. When the Moon Shall Rise

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. 

**Summary:** Years after the battle on Badon Hill, Lancelot has resigned himself to a loveless life, ever watching from the sidelines. But his hope is slowly restored when he meets a young woman, who fills his world with light, like the rising of the moon.

Crescent Moon

By katemary77

Chapter One: When the Moon Shall Rise

_You meaner beauties of the night,  
That poorly satisfy our eyes,  
More by your number, than your light;  
You common people of the skies,  
What are you when the moon shall rise?_  
- Sir Henry Wotton

Breathing an audible sigh of relief, Lancelot smiled wanly as he and his four companions directed their horses past the expansive stone gates at Birdoswald Fort. The curly-haired knight suppressed a scathing smirk when Lord Antonius, who lorded over the large town, greeted the King and his knights with a cheery smile and wide-open arms.

Antonius was the only remaining Roman governor who had elected to stay in Briton, rather than return to his homeland after the Reformation four years ago. He presided over a large and prosperous town, which had once been a great Roman fort, and Arthur wished for a new trade route to be established to Camelot. Thus, the King and all his knights but Bors, who was remaining at Camelot with his heavily pregnant wife, had travelled to the township for negotiations.

"King Arthur! I'm so glad you have finally arrived! I trust you did not meet with any trouble along the road?"

"We did not," Arthur confirmed, jumping lightly from his horse and indicating his knights do the same. "It is a pleasure to be here, Lord Antonius, to discuss the trade plans that have been in motion for a time now."

"Wonderful, wonderful, we can begin the discussions tomorrow," the portly lord smiled. "For now, I am sure you and your knights would like a warm bed and some hot food after such a gruelling journey. And in such horrible weather, too."

Lancelot smirked. A day in the saddle was hardly a 'gruelling journey,' as the lord put it, and he winked at Gawain, who chuckled in response.

"Grieta!" Antonius shouted, snapping his fingers and causing a young serving maid to hurry to her lord's side, her head bowed. "Grieta will show you to your rooms, and if there is anything you need during your stay, anything at all, please do not hesitate to ask her."

"Thankyou, my Lord Antonius," Arthur said, dipping his head graciously. "We greatly appreciate it."

"Please, my lords, if you'll follow me," the maid said, sinking into a low curtsey, before rising and leading the King, Gawain, Galahad, Tristan and Lancelot to their rooms.

"Hot water will be sent to you for a bath," she told each as she directed them into their lodgings, "and my Lord Antonius has requested you attend supper with him this evening, after you have rested."

Arthur nodded kindly. "Thank you, Grieta, that will be all my knights and I will be needing for the moment."

She curtsied again. "As you wish, sire. The water will be brought shortly."

Lancelot sighed as he walked into his small room, pulling off his armour as he went. From here, there would be days of tedious discussion, which Lancelot knew Arthur would not allow him to avoid. It was not something he was looking forward to.

_But_, he reminded himself, _it is far better than being at Camelot_. For the King's home had become a place of anguish and sorrow for Lancelot, and he could find no relief in its stately halls.

"_Guinevere." _

The name stuck to the roof of his throat, turning to ash on his tongue.

Ever since the Woad had been pulled from the dark of Marius Honarius's dungeon, Lancelot had been enthralled by the dark beauty. And as he had stood at Arthur's side during their wedding, the knight had finally admitted the truth to himself; he was in love with her.

But Lancelot was as loyal as he was fierce, and would never betray his best friend, his love for the noble King stronger than any other.

He had never touched the Queen, and he never would, instead resigning himself to a life of shame and sadness, watching from the sidelines as the happy couple lived their life in wedded bliss, unknowingly breaking the dark knights heart.

_**------------**_

Lancelot took a long swig of his mead, drying the tankard, before setting the heavy cup down on the bar, motioning for the barmaid to refill it. Nodding his thanks to the buxom woman, Lancelot took the cup to his lips and sipped thoughtfully, swivelling on his stool to gaze at his companions, who were seated at a nearby table, enjoying the company of some local women.

"Come, Lancelot!" Galahad cried, clearly intoxicated, as he swerved up to the bar for more ale. "It is unlike you to sit and brood when the company of such fine looking women is to be had!"

"Perhaps his thought is upon another," Tristan said quietly, using his knife to cut into an apple. "Perhaps his thoughts are back at Camelot."

Lancelot's eyes darkened; the scout was far too observant for his own good. "Nay, Tristan, I am merely thinking about how boring these past few days have been."

Gawain and Galahad laughed, and the youngest cried gleefully, "And Lancelot, thinking upon _one_ woman? Never!"

Smiling slightly, Lancelot took another sip upon his mead and followed Galahad, who was unsteadily making his way back to the table, with his dark eyes.

As soon as the Roman soldier knocked roughly into the inebriated knight, sending his mead spilling over his tunic, the atmosphere in the small tavern changed dramatically.

Galahad's blue eyes darkened, glinting with challenge, and Gawain stood up, his knuckles clenching, as the Roman grunted and continued on his way.

"Apologise!"

Slowly, the soldier turned. "Or what? You'll scratch me with your pretty sword?"

Growling, Galahad made forward, but was stopped by a swift arm catching his chest.

"Knights," Lancelot spoke, warning thick in his voice, "the King will not be happy if we quarrel with our hosts men. A spilt drink is not worth Arthur's anger."

Nodding, though still seething with anger, Galahad and Gawain accepted the wisdom of Lancelot's words, and took their seats.

The Roman snorted and sneered, "So much for the bravery of knights," before stalking out of the tavern with his companions.

Lancelot downed the rest of his mead and clapped a hand on Gawain and Galahad's shoulders. "Have a good night, boys," he said quietly, and with a swift nod to Tristan, exited the pub into the cool, frigid night.

_**------------**_

Later, Lancelot lay awake in his cot, watching the dying embers of the room's small fire wither with detached interest. As the last remnant finally surrendered to the encompassing darkness, giving a brief spark of defiance before fading completely, the knight threw himself off of the warm, welcoming bed, tossing a tunic on before striding purposefully out of the room.

It was not late, he knew, and Lancelot supposed the other knights were still merry-making at the tavern he had left earlier, and that the King was most likely visiting with Lord Antonius and his family, a vapid, watering looking wife, a young, intelligent looking son and two mildly interesting daughters, whom Lancelot had dismissed at first glance as being too "Roman."

But the knight did not desire company, but solitude, so he made his way through the thick fortress towards the watchtower he knew overlooked the River Irthing and the rolling meadows beyond, in hopes that wrapping the night around himself might sooth his subsultory soul.

Before he could make it to the watchtower, however, Lancelot made out the muffled sound of voices ahead of him and quickly ducked into a darkened corner. The three Roman soldiers who had confronted Galahad earlier strode confidently past himt, conversing in soft voices that barely reached the knights ears.

"Are you sure we can trust you, Avitus?" one of the men asked the younger looking of the trio.

"Of course you can, I won't tell a soul. And I want to see this for myself," the one named Avitus answered. "You say she's only just been brought here, Tertius?"

"Nay," Tertius replied. "She was in Antonius's chambers for months, but then she almost escaped so he had her brought down here for us men. But he still comes down to visit occasionally," he said with a snort.

"But he won't be there now, will he?" Avitus asked worriedly.

The third shook his head. "Nay, not with those British dogs visiting. Come, the hour grows late, and I am in an impatient mood."

The voices drifted further away, and Lancelot, frowning slightly with curiosity, padded silently after the three Roman guards, eventually finding himself facing a heavily scarred wooden door.

Curious, Lancelot pressed his ear to the coarse wood, only to hear muffled laughter and conversation coming from within. A moment later, though, Lancelot imagined himself to hear a quiet, muffled scream come from within.

Never one to fly into battle unprepared, Lancelot stepped back and allowed himself a moment of thought. He could burst in there, unarmed and alone, and discover what was going on inside, or, he could try and find Arthur, but that may take a while and he could not know that he would be able to steal his commander away without Lord Antonius becoming suspicious.

Giving a small shrug, Lancelot squared his shoulders and reached for the handle of the door. Determined and confident, the dark haired knight quietly stole into the room, promptly freezing at the sight he was greeted with.

Two of the Romans were standing, their backs facing Lancelot, looking on at the third, who was laying atop and young girl, his breeches pulled down to his ankles. Her hands were shackled to the stone wall, and she was clothed in a tattered white dress, its skirts bunched up around her waste. She was sobbing quietly, defeatedly, as if she had given up all dreams of ever escaping her darkened fate.

The Roman abusing her let out a strangled moan, his hands groping the girl's face in a twisted parody of a lovers embrace, and Lancelot stood, transfixed, at the horror being played out before his eyes.

But then, under a curtain of matted hair, the girl's eyes locked onto Lancelot's, and she let out a small gasp and turned her face away, as if she were shamed at what he was seeing.

This was enough to snap the knight out of his trance, and he glanced urgently around until his eyes settled on what they were searching for: one of the Roman's swords, propped up against the wall. Reaching out and taking the hilt in his hands, Lancelot flexed his fingers around the sword; his face contorting in barely controlled fury.

"Get off her." His voice was deadly calm, at its most dangerous.

The three Romans jumped, startled, and turned to face the interruption in their little game.

"I said, get off her."

"Why?" one said. "She's just some slave bitch our lord brought from Rome."

In an instant, the man was dead, the dagger Lancelot kept at his hip embedded in his throat. Before the others could react, Lancelot dove forward, expertly running each through with the blade until the three lay dead on the floor, blood blossoming from their wounds.

Turning toward the girl, Lancelot lowered the sword to find her pinned underneath the dead weight of the Roman who had been abusing her, struggling weakly to push him away. With a mighty heave, Lancelot lifted the dead soldier off her, tactfully averting his gaze until she had managed to fix her dress.

With a swift swing of his sword, Lancelot broke through metal coils that chained her to the wall. He reached out to help her to her feet, but the girl quickly recoiled from him, cowering in the corner. It splintered the knights heart, conjuring up images of what it could be that would make a woman so afraid of a man.

"It's okay, I won't hurt you," he placated, holding his hands in a manner that he hoped would assure her.

She glared at him with untrusting eyes, hurriedly brushing a dirty lock of hair from her face. "Why should I believe you?" she asked, her voice hoarse and scratchy. "What's your name?"

"Lancelot," he answered her.

There was a flicker of recognition in her eyes. "You are a knight." At his brief nod, there was a small, sweet smile gracing her chapped lips. "Corin. I am Corin."

"Well, Corin," he said, returning the smile, "we should get you out of this place. Where are you hurt? Can you walk?"

She slowly brought her hand to touch her left temple, drawing it back to inadvertently show Lancelot her bloodstained fingers. "It's shallow. Won't need stitches. I think my ankle is sprained as well," Corin said, indicating her oddly twisted left ankle, flourished with a dark bruise.

Lancelot nodded briskly and tossed the borrowed sword to the ground before offering his hands to Corin. Helping her to stand, the knight placed a strong arm around her waist and they slowly made their way out of the dungeon.

"So, where are you from, Corin?"

"Greece," she muttered through her teeth. "Delos, an island in the South Aegean."

"You are a long way from home, Lady."

"I am."

Soon, Lancelot's keen ears picked up the sound of swift footfalls up ahead and, sure enough, they were met with a small company of guards, accompanied by Lord Antonius and Arthur.

At the sight of Antonius, Lancelot heard Corin whimper quietly and shift on her right leg, putting the curly-haired knight between herself and the portly lord, whose face had turned an off puce colour. "What is the meaning of this?" he cried angrily. "Guards! Seize her!"

Ignoring his King's questioning gaze, Lancelot, with a set jaw, placed himself firmly in front of Corin. "This lady is now under my care. You will not touch her."

As the haughty lord spluttered indignantly, his four soldiers advanced upon Lancelot.

"Stop."

The word was uttered in a stern, commanding tone, and was only emphasised by Excalibur, which was suddenly drawn to block the path of Antonius's men. "Lancelot, speak," Arthur demanded.

"She was chained up, Arthur," Lancelot spat, barely containing his rage. "They were beating her… raping her. I won't let her go back to them, Arthur, I won't."

Arthur nodded once, his piercing green eyes full of sympathy and understanding. In a moment, the King had his sword resting carefully at the throat of Lord Antonius. "Did you know of this?" he growled.

"No! No, of course not, my lord! I would never allow such treatment of a woman!"

"Liar," a cold voice hissed harshly from behind Lancelot. Corin took a shaky step forward, grasping tightly to Lancelot's shoulder. "You bought me yourself! Do you not remember?"

At Antonius's seemingly guilty expression, Arthur threw him a disgusted glare and turned to Lancelot. "Take her to your room. I'll have a maid sent to you."

With a swift nod, Lancelot turned to Corin and easily lifted her into his arms. "Come, Lady Corin, let us get you well."

"You don't have to carry me, you know."

He shot her a rakish grin. "But it makes me feel so chivalrous! Like a knight in shining armour. Let us embrace the cliché for a moment."

She chortled softly. "If you must."

A/N: Please drop me a review and tell me what you think.


	2. Broken Moon

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. 

**Summary:** Years after the battle on Badon Hill, Lancelot has resigned himself to a loveless life, ever watching from the sidelines. But his hope is slowly restored when he meets a young woman, who fills his life with light, like the rising of the moon.

**A/N:** I was going to wait tomorrow to post this, but all those lovely reviews just melted my heart. Review responses….

**_Sweet A.K (Amanda) –_** Thank you so much for your review, and I know exactly what you're talking about. When I wrote that I felt the same and wasn't to sure if I would keep it in there, but then I sorta looked at it like Lance was just trying to cheer her up, lighten the mood kinda thing. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

**_Shorty51 – _**Lol, I'm very, very happy with that image as well, and I'm glad you are because there is plenty more to come. Thanks for the review.

**_Evenstar – _**Thank you, thank you, thank you, I'm really excited to see where this goes as well. Hope you like this chapter!

**_Hollow – _**((blushes furiously)) Thank you so much! I hope this chapter is soon enough!

**_Andromahke – _**Thankyou so much for your review! I definitely will be keeping this going, I'm having so much fun writing it. Enjoy this chapter!

**_LP – _**Thankyou… I think… Lol, I'm trying to make it so that Corin ain't a Mary Sue, but in my eyes every OC introduced as a romantic interest in every fandom I read is a Mary Sue, so I use that term very loosely. Hope you like this chapter.

**_Solain Rhyo – _**Oh God, I am such a sad person. Lol, when I recognised your name and figured out that you write Excelsius Dei, I got so happy. I _love _your story and the fact that you like mine makes me a very, very smug person. Lol, thanks so much for the review, hope you like this chapter.

**_Jemiul - _**Thank you, thank you, thank you! Uh, I can't stop smiling. I hope you like this chapter!

**_AllyDOGreat – _**LOL! I'm sorry! That would've been so embarrassing. I've done that a few times. Thank you so much for your review! Gave me a good laugh, heehee. I hope you like this chapter!

**_Irishfire – _**Lol, he can be mine too, I think he could be any woman who had two eyes knight in shining armour. Yum yum. Thanks for your review, hope you enjoy this chapter.

**_Quinn-FanFicAddict – _**Thank you so much for your review! I love that you like Lancelot this way and that you want to read more about Corin. I hope you like this chapter!

* * *

Crescent Moon 

By katemary77

Chapter Two: Broken Moon

_Tis midnight now. The bend and broken moon,  
Batter'd and black, as from a thousand battles,  
Hangs silent on the purple walls of Heaven.  
_-Joaquin Miller, Ina

In no time at all, they had entered Lancelot's room, he quickly crossing it to lay Corin upon the bed, before relighting the fire in the hearth.

"Thank you, Sir Knight, for everything."

"Lancelot," he amended, bringing a wet cloth to Corin's face to gently wiping away the dirt and grime. "Just Lancelot. I am but a commoners son made into a warrior."

She nodded mutely, wincing as he cleaned the gash on her temple.

"So tell me, Lady Corin, how it is that you find yourself on this damned isle? I didn't think the Greeks were sold into slavery."

She smiled grimly. "They're not. I'm a very rare exception."

Lancelot raised his eyebrows, indicating she should continue.

"I was a priestess at a temple of Artemis, the only one left," Corin explained, the firelight dancing over her skin. "By that stage, only a handful of temples dedicated to the old Gods of Olympus existed; the Roman Catholics had wiped all the others out. The Romans heard of our presence in Delos. The temple was sacked, priests murdered and priestesses sold into slavery. I was taken to Rome, and from there, bought by Antonius at the slave markets. That was five months ago now, I think."

There was a soft knock at the door.

"Enter."

Grieta, the young maid, curtsied as she came into the room, looking expectantly to Lancelot.

"This lady is wounded. Could you fetch your village healer?"

Grieta shook her head. "I'm sorry, milord, but he passed away only a few weeks ago. He was very old."

"There is no one else?"

She shook her head.

"Damn," Lancelot cursed softly.

"It's alright," Corin said and turned to Grieta. "Do you think you could bring the healers things here?"

"Yes, my lady," the maid replied.

Corin turned back to Lancelot. "I have been taught how to heal, I'll show you what to do."

He nodded. "Would you please bring the healers things here, then?" he asked Grieta, who nodded swiftly and curtsied before hurrying out of the room.

"Now, let me see this ankle of yours," the knight murmured, and then carefully sat by Corin's form on the bed, lifting her dress up around her knees.

"Definitely a sprain," she declared, after a moment of examining the darkly bruised flesh.

Lancelot ran a finger lightly over the bone and she hissed softly in pain. "But not a break," he concluded, pushing her skirt back into place.

They were interrupted again when Grieta re-entered the room, a heavy wooden box in her thin arms.

"Thank you so much, Grieta," Lancelot said, jumping up to take the box out of her hands. "It's very much appreciated."

"Milord," she said softly, bowing her head before leaving the room.

"Now," Lancelot exclaimed, setting the box down on the room's small table, "what exactly am I looking for?"

"A healing balm," Corin proffered. "It should be orange in colour and smell like yarrow."

"This?" he asked, tossing a small tub to Corin, who opened it, took a whiff and tossed it back. "That's for gangrene."

"Oh. What about this?"

He threw another jar at the Greek, who nodded once she had smelt the salve. "This is the one."

Armed with a small bag of bandages and the orange Yarrow balm, Lancelot proceeded to dress Corin's various cuts and bruises, finishing off by tightly wrapping her ankle.

"There. Done," Lancelot said lightly. "Now, you get some rest while I go and speak with Arthur – "

"That's not all," Corin interjected quietly. "Could you, um… turn around?"

Brow furrowed, Lancelot simply stared at the girl.

"Please?"

Sighing, he acquiesced, and his movement was followed by a slight groan from his bed and the sound of rustling sheets.

"Okay, you can turn around."

Lancelot brought his gaze back to Corin to find that she had slid under the sheets only to lift up her dress, legs covered by the blanket, to display her midsection to the knight.

"It's infected," she said, of the deep gash that ran across her hipbone. "It needs to be cauterised."

With a grim nod, Lancelot left the room in search of a fellow knight.

"Galahad!" he called, banging loudly on the door of his comrade.

After a few moments, the young knight appeared, wiping groggily at his eyes with clenched fists. "What's the matter?" he asked Lancelot irritably.

"Are you still drunk?" the darker knight demanded.

"No," Galahad replied. "I retired for the evening a while ago."

"Good," Lancelot said, before explaining the situation to his friend. "I need you to help me cauterise one of her wounds, it's badly infected and still open."

Galahad nodded, all traces of sleep gone from his person.

Striding swiftly into his room, Lancelot retrieved his dagger, pressing the hilt into Galahad's palm. "I'll hold her down." The older knight then turned to Corin. "This is Galahad," he introduced, "Galahad, this is Corin." Galahad smiled nervously and nodded in greeting, before turning to the fire.

Giving what he hoped was an encouraging smile, Lancelot crawled onto the mattress behind Corin, spreading his legs into a V shape and pulling the woman against his chest. He wound his left arm over her collarbone, his other holding Corin firmly by her upper stomach, and she lifted her hands to grasp his tightly.

Suddenly, Galahad loomed over them, grasping the hilt of the red-hot blade. Corin gave a firm nod, her hold on Lancelot tightening. "I'm so sorry," Galahad whispered, and then, with a clenched jaw, bent down and pressed the flat of the blade to Corin's hip.

She let out a loud cry, tears of pain immediately welling in her cornflower eyes. Her hips bucked off the bed, her back arching, in retaliation to the white-hot pain being applied to her wound.

But then, the pain was gone as Galahad drew back the blade. Corin heaved an anguished sob, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Shhh," Lancelot soothed, rubbing comforting circles on her arms, hoping to lull her into a slumber. It seemed to work, because soon Corin's breathing slowed and became a steady, gentle rhythm, and her tight grip on Lancelot went slack.

Carefully, the knight manoeuvred out from under the girl and motioned to Galahad. "We need to dress it. Could you pass me that balm?" Quietly, the two knights applied the salve to Corin's hip and wrapped a bandage around her slim waist.

"Where's she from, this girl?" Galahad asked.

"Greece," Lancelot replied. "She was a priestess in a temple that got sacked. The Romans made her a slave and she ended up here."

Galahad nodded in understanding. "Roman bastards. She's certainly a beauty though."

Lancelot raised an eyebrow and glanced down at the dirty, bruised girl lying still in his bed.

Galahad chuckled, following Lancelot's gaze. "Certainly she doesn't look it now, but you just wait 'till she's cleaned up and you'll see what I mean."

He shrugged and was just about to open his mouth to speak when there was a firm knock on the door. Crossing to the other side of the room, Lancelot opened the door, bowing slightly at his commander and king who stood on the other side.

"How is she?" Arthur asked as he entered the room.

"Asleep," Lancelot answered, and then quickly and emotionlessly relayed what little Corin had told him about herself to the King.

"Was she wounded greatly?"

"A few bruises and cuts, including a nasty one to her head, a sprained ankle and a deep cut on her hip that Galahad and I cauterised. I know not if she was wounded in… other places…"

Arthur nodded gravely, conveying that he understood what his knight was saying. "I have dealt with Antonius and his men."

"Oh?"

"They have been exiled and ordered to leave Briton under pain of death. I will not tolerate slavery in this country."

"And what of the lordship of Birdoswald?" Galahad asked.

"Antonius's son, Faustus. I have spoken with him," Arthur answered. "He wishes to stay here, away from his father, and seems sincere. "

Lancelot and Galahad nodded silently.

"And now," the King continued, "the only remaining question is what to do with this young lady."

Lancelot shrugged. "I doubt she will want to return to her home country now, and it's not probable that she desires to stay here, not after…" he said, letting the sentence linger. "She spoke of having skills in healing. Mayhap we can take her to Camelot? We could always use another healer."

Arthur nodded, seemingly deep in thought. "And I fear my wife grows weary with only men for company. Perhaps the girl can be a companion to the Queen. She certainly seems to have spirit."

_**------------ **_

Slowly, Corin awoke to soft voices in the room where she slept. Only vaguely aware of the dull ache from the wound on her hip, she wearily opened her eyes. Through bleary, sleep-ridden orbs, Corin was able to discern two blurry figures, but soon her vision sharpened and the dark silhouettes became the knight Lancelot and his lord, King Arthur. Clearing her throat softly, Corin managed to gain the attention of the two great warriors.

"My lady, how do you fare?" The King asked gently, his brilliant green eyes warm with compassion.

"A lot better, my lord, thanks to you and your men."

Arthur smiled and knelt down by the bed, taking Corin's hand in his own, large and callused one. "Please, my lady, Lancelot only did what any honourable man would do."

"Then," Corin replied thoughtfully, "there are too little men of his kind in the world and I am lucky to have met so many in one night."

The King nodded solemnly. "Antonius and his men have been exiled. Such men are not tolerated in this land."

Corin sat up quickly and winced as her body protested the movement. Waving the pain aside, Corin focused on the man before her. "You must know, sire, that Antonius's son, Faustus, is a good man with an honest heart. He saw me many times around the fortress and was always very kind to me, my lord, and never once did he venture down to the dungeons where I was kept."

Arthur smiled. "Faustus is now lord over this fortress. You have no need to worry."

Content for the moment, Corin slid back down into the mattress. "Thank you. That is good to know."

"And what of you, my lady? If you wish it, I would have you accompany us back to Camelot. I am in want of a personal healer for the castle and I'm sure my wife would love a companion. That is, of course, if you do not wish to return to your home country and family."

Corin shook her head slowly, sadly. "My country holds nothing for me now. My Gods have been forsaken from that land, and I have no family that would welcome my return." She gave Arthur a warm smile. "I will go with you and your knights. To Camelot, sire."

"I am glad to hear it," Arthur said with a glint in his eye. "We will depart in the morning, when you are better rested. It is a one days ride to Camelot. I will have Grieta find you some clothes. Is there anything else, my lady?"

"There is," Corin replied. "I am not of noble birth, so you should stop calling me Lady, sire. Corin is my name and you should use it."

The King chuckled. "And you should call me Arthur and only Arthur. In four years I have not yet become used to all this royalty business. I am only a man."

Corin smiled brightly. "Well, thank you, Arthur, and goodnight."

**_A/N:_** And goodnight to you, as well. Or good morning, or evening, or afternoon, depending on wherever you are, or perhaps I should just be really Aussie and say G'day. Don't forget to leave a review!


	3. Lustre and Shade

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. 

**_A/N:_** Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews, I'm so overwhelmed, I totally did not expect such a great reaction to this story. Shoutouts to **Rogo, urhallucinating, Southernhun, abeldina, Maeghan, i wish i were a cloud, abeldina, jemiul, Evenstar,** fro reviewing, thank you so much! As to those who commented on how trustful Corin is, you're very right and I'm glad that was pointed out so I can try and give a bit of an explanation. I'm trying to make Corin come out as a very easy-going, warm, instinctually trustful person, as before she was taken as a slave she rarely left the temple and saw the real world. She's also had about five months to come to term with the fact that she is a prisoner and to work out within herself that not all men are these horrible, abusive, sexist pigs. Besides, I figure Guinevere was rather trusting of Arthur and the knights after she was pulled from the Roman torture chamber, after weeks/slash months of being tortured, beat and quite possibly raped. And as for **i wish i were a cloud** who asked if perhaps Corin knows Lancey from somewhere, you'll just have to wait and see. Hope you like Chapter Three.

**Summary:** Years after the battle on Badon Hill, Lancelot has resigned himself to a loveless life, ever watching from the sidelines. But his hope is slowly restored when he meets a young woman, who fills his life with light, like the rising of the moon.

Crescent Moon

By katemary77

Chapter Three: Lustre and Shade

_The moon pull'd off her veil of light, _

_That hides her face by day from sight_

_(Mysterious veil, of brightness made, _

_That's both her lustre and her shade), _

_And in the lantern of the night, _

_With shining horns hung out her light._  
- Samuel Butler _Hudibras (pt. II, canto I, l. 905)_

Corin emerged the next day, donned in a very ill fitting brown dress that had been given to her by the maid, Grieta. The servant girl was much shorter and frailer than Corin, and thus the dress hung awkwardly off Corin's frame, tight across her hips and breast, and somewhat lacking in length. Nevertheless, the Greek woman entered the stately courtyard, a white ball of fabric clutched tightly in her hands, to find the four knights and their King waiting for her.

"We have a horse for you, Corin," Arthur explained, nodding to a dappled grey mare alongside his own.

Corin bit her lip and cast her eyes to the ground. "That poses a slight problem my… Arthur." She lifted her gaze to his face. "I have never ridden before. There was never any need for it. "

"Ah. Well, you shall ride with one of us until lunchtime, at which point we shall instruct you in the matter."

"Very well," Corin acquiesced.

The youthful knight Corin recognised as Galahad rode forward. "You may ride with me, Lady Corin."

Corin bowed her head and smiled. "It would be a pleasure, Sir Knight."

Nimbly jumping off his white stallion, Galahad easily lifted the woman, mindful of her injured hip, into the saddle, before mounting in front of her. "Nay, Lady, the pleasure is all mine."

"Corin! Corin! Lady Corin!" came a masculine shout from the fortress.

Corin turned her head awkwardly back to see Faustus running toward her. The young lord came to a stop beside Galahad's horse and reached up to take Corin's hand. He placed something cool and hard on her palm and curled her fingers around it with his own. "I found that in my fathers study," he told her, and then held up a small silver ring set with a blue topaz stone. "And this is for you. I know it's not much and doesn't repay what was taken from you, but please take this as a token of my remorse for what my father did to you."

Corin smiled and took the ring, before opening her hand. She let out a startled gasp. "How did you find this?" she breathed. It was the necklace she wore as a priestess, signifying her rank and the deity she was devoted to; an ornate pendant wrought with silver with a beautifully carved crescent moon, a silver arrow passing through it, and set with a white, opaque moonstone.

"I don't know why he kept it," Faustus said with a shrug, "but I thought it should be returned to you." Faustus took her hand in his. "Corin, if you ever need a place to stay, you can always seek refuge here. These walls will ever be open to you."

Corin smiled, tears prickling at her eyes, and slid her hand from his, moving it to cup his face. "You are a good man, Faustus," she said, bending down to kiss his forehead. "I think you and I shall meet again."

With a smile and a wave, Corin left Birdoswald Fort on the back of Galahad's white stallion, and rode ahead into a new life.

_**---------- **_

"Now, you're sitting in the saddle, and these hear in my hands are called reins."

"Really, Galahad?" Corin said dryly. "I never would have guessed."

Galahad snorted. "Really, Corin, you are a most impatient lady."

"And not the best student, I take it?" she joked.

They had been riding for hours, and Corin was thoroughly sick of it. She had spent the majority of the time fingering her pendant, which she had returned around her neck with the ring Faustus had given her strung beside it, listening to Galahad speak of Camelot, home, his love and loyalty for Arthur and his plans for the future. Corin had taken an instant liking to the young knight. He was the closest in age to her and had retained his boyish innocence; even through the marred and bloodied life he had lived. Galahad had a charming shyness around Corin, which she mused must come with inexperience in dealing with women, and something Corin endeavoured to banish with teasing jokes and playful banter.

"Perhaps the lady would find a change of company agreeable?" a wily voice asked from behind. Galahad and Corin both turned their heads to find Lancelot leaning forward on his horse, a dark eyebrow cocked slyly in question. "Well?"

Corin chuckled before sliding carefully off Galahad's horse, wary not to put too much weight on her injured ankle. "Yes, perhaps a different beast underneath me is precisely what I need. Galahad, it has been a pleasure travelling with you."

"It has indeed," the knight replied. "Until later, then." Swiftly, Galahad turned his horse and was off, riding beside his friend.

"Well, my lady?" Lancelot prodded, extending a hand to Corin.

She grinned slightly, shifting her small bundle of fabric under her arm, and took his hand, letting out a small squeal of surprise when he pulled her off her feet and in front of him on the horse.

"Why do you keep that dress?" Lancelot asked, nodding his head toward the white material in Corin's lap.

"These are my priestess's robes," she told him. "I did not wish to just throw them away."

Lancelot nodded and watched her stroke his horse's neck timidly. "Horses can smell fear, Corin, and there is no need to be afraid."

She nodded, slightly unnerved by Lancelot's close proximity. "And what is your horse's name?"

"Midnight… because he's black."

Corin snorted. "How original."

"And what would you have named him, I wonder?"

She shrugged and made a noncommittal noise. "Something more creative than 'Midnight,' to be sure," Corin said. "But then, I don't understand why men name horses in the first place. Always wanting to own everything, men."

"But if men don't own anything, who does?" Lancelot asked.

Her answer was quick. "The Gods."

"Tell me of your Gods, Corin."

She smiled wryly. "There are many."

"We have all day and it is not yet mid-morning."

"Very well. I will tell you of my Gods. What do you already know?"

"I know of Zeus, the ruler of Mount Olympus."

"Yes, Zeus," she began. "Zeus is lord of the sky and the rain. He hurls his thunderbolt at those who displease him, particularly those that lie and break oaths. Then, there is his brother, Poseidon."

"God of the sea," Lancelot interjected.

"Yes, with his trident and chariot." She smiled ruefully. "Once, Poseidon desired Demeter, goddess of the harvest, and to put him off she asked him to make the most beautiful creature the world had ever seen. Do you know what he made?"

"No. What did he make, Corin?"

"The horse."

Lancelot snickered. "They can't be that bad then, can they?"

"They may be beautiful creatures, but they are certainly uncomfortable," she laughed.

"You're too stiff," Lancelot told her. Gently, for he was aware of Corin's uneasiness around him, and indeed any man, the knight lowered his hands that held the reins to rest on the woman's thighs. If possible, Corin tensed even more, and the dark-haired knight bit back a sigh. "Please, just relax, I'm not going to hurt you. You can trust me, Corin." Distraction, Lancelot thought, was perhaps the best strategy. "Tell me more of your Gods."

"Okay," she said, gazing out at the scattered wilderness they were riding through. "Hades is next, King of the Underworld, Tartarus, lord over the dead. He abducted his wife, Peresphone, and that is why we have seasons, because her mother, Demeter, grieves her absence and lays a curse upon the land that causes its plants to wither and die."

"And what of war? Who is the god of war?"

"Ares," Corin answered, "but Athena is often associated with war as well, although truly she is the embodiment of wisdom, purity and reason. Next is Apollo, god of music, god of healing, of light and truth, who cannot speak a lie. He is the Archer, far shooting with a silver bow. He is god of the sun and every morning he harnesses his chariot with four horses to drive the sun across the sky."

"And what of love?"

"Aphrodite and her son, Eros, who is blind because love is also. The goddess and god of love, desire and beauty."

"And your goddess? The one you serve?"

Corin smiled widely. "Artemis. Apollo's twin sister. She is the lady of the wild things. The Huntress of the gods and the protector of the young and the moon. She is a virgin goddess and presides over childbirth. All wild things are sacred to her."

"There are many gods on Mount Olympus," Lancelot commented.

"Aye, and there are many more," Corin agreed quietly. "But I fear they are being forgotten. The old ways are dying and with them will go the gods, with no one left to worship and cherish them. And only the Fates will remain."

"The Fates?"

"The three who decide our destiny. Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos. They are more awesome than any god."

There was a moment of quiet thoughtfulness as the pair surveyed the surrounding land that had smoothed out from the woodland before into rolling, grassy hills.

"Come," Corin spoke, breaking the silence. "You must teach me how to ride this beast."

"Well," Lancelot said with a steely smile, "now that you've relaxed a bit, that might just be a little easier." It was true. As Corin had been speaking, she had unknowingly settled into Lancelot's chest, his hands resting on her legs, and was moving much more easily with the horse's rhythm. "Now, hold the reins in your hands like this," he said, weaving the leather straps through her fingers. "If you want to go right, pull gently to the right, and if – "

"You want to go left, pull left. That part is rather self-explanatory," Corin commented lightly.

"And if you want to stop?" Lancelot asked.

Corin thought for a moment. "You pull back?"

"You do. And going faster?"

"Oh, that's easy!" Corin laughed. "You just go like this." Casually, Corin kicked her legs rather forcefully into Midnight's loins, and the battle horse, sensitive to the slightest touch, let out a loud neigh and shot out into the meadow, eating up the ground with his powerful legs in a manner of seconds.

Corin shrieked and clutched tightly to the reins, before Lancelot's warm hands deftly pulled the straps from her fingers and gently slowed the horse to a stop.

"Are you alright?" he asked urgently as the young woman slipped off Midnight's back and onto the grass. But her legs had turned to jelly and, accompanied by a sprained ankle, this caused her to gently sink to the ground.

"Corin? Corin, are you okay?" Lancelot demanded as Arthur and the others crested athe hill and came into view.

Gazing up at the blue sky, dotted by a few fluffy clouds, Corin drew in a deep breath, and let it out in a great peal of laughter. "Oh! That was brilliant!" she exclaimed, as she used the buckles on Lancelot's breeches to pull herself to her feet. "I don't think I've even been so terrified in my life. I thought my heart would explode." Leaning heavily against the curly-haired knight, Corin carefully wiped tears of mirth from her cheeks with the pad of her thumb. Lancelot scowled and ran a hand agitatedly through his hair.

"Are you two alright?" Arthur called as they rode up to meet the pair.

"Quite," Lancelot answered. "In fact, Corin seems to think her attempt to kill me was quite amusing." From the looks on Galahad and Gawain's faces, they shared the same opinion.

"Kill you, Lancelot?" Corin asked with a confused air. "Why, you're a Sarmation knight! Threatened by a horse and a mere girl? You flatter me. Surely I am not that fearsome."

They couldn't help it, really. Bursting into laughter was the only option.

Lancelot's scowl deepened and Corin let out a clear, bell-like peal of laughter.

Arthur chuckled shortly and surveyed the small cluster of trees before them. "Well, here's a good a place as any for lunch," he said, freeing his saddlebags from his horse and nodding to the others to do the same. The knights acquiesced, tying their horses to nearby trees and plopping onto the floor to eat.

Corin, wincing at the pain in her upper legs and backside, hobbled over to a log, cursing under her breath all the way, and seated herself beside a quiet looking knight whose shoulder-length hair was decorated with many braids.

"I'm Corin," she told him, watching pensively as he tossed bits of his lunch to the hawk perched on his knee.

"I know."

Corin cocked an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to tell me your name?" she asked.

A small smirk crept onto his face. "Perhaps."

She laughed and nodded to the slender bow resting against his pack. "May I?"

"Be my guest, Lady," the mysterious knight said, somewhat grudgingly.

Smiling widely, Corin reached across and took the bow in her hand. Running delicate fingers down the smooth wooden handle, she pulled the string taut and admired the wood's intricate carvings. "This is a beautiful bow," she commented. "Where did you get it?"

"I made it," he grunted.

Somewhat irritated by the knight's aloofness, Corin bit her lip to keep her anger in check and stood. "I'll make you a deal, Sir Knight. If I can hit a target of your choosing, you give me your name."

The knight sat back. "And what would be in it for me, Lady Corin?"

She grinned. "You seem to be a rather reclusive type, Sir Knight, one who does not overly enjoy the conversation of others, and I can be a very talkative person when I want to. Besides, I have quite a fondness for solving mysteries, and you are quite the mysterious person. But, I think for now I shall be quite satisfied with a name."

The knight smirked and looked Corin up and down, something she was not quite comfortable with. "Very well, Lady, that tree there," he said, gesturing to a tree that stood roughly thirty feet away.

Corin snorted. "Come now, this is a Sarmation bow! Give me a bit of a challenge, please!"

The knight chuckled, took the bow, nocked an arrow and gave Corin an amused grin before shooting the arrow some two hundred and fifty feet away, dead centre in an extremely thin tree that quaked and shivered with the impact.

Corin let out a low breath and the other knights chuckled at the expression on her face. "That is an impressive shot," she breathed, taking the bow and nocking another arrow. Taking aim, she let the arrow loose and watched as it sailed in a perfect ark before splintering the knights arrow in half, landing with a loud thud. "For a man."

The knights stared.

Corin grinned. "Surely you did not think the High Priestess in a temple of Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt, would not know how to use a bow?"

"In my life I have never met a better archer than him," Gawain exclaimed. "That was amazing!"

"Perhaps it was only luck," Galahad mused with a sly grin. "And we do not know that she is better than our scout. We should put their skills to the test!"

"I am injured, Galahad!" Corin cried. "That would hardly be fair!" It was only then that Lancelot noticed her strained face and how she heavily favoured her right leg. "And besides," she said to the scout, "you owe me a name."

He smiled at her a sunk into a bow. "Sir Tristan at your service, my lady."

"A pleasure to meet you," she said, curtseying lightly in turn.

"Now tell us, Lady Corin," Gawain said, handing her an apple, "what exactly does the High Priestess of Artemis do?"

"She serves the Lady of the Moon," Corin answered unfalteringly. "In any way she can. And sometimes," she said softly, her gaze lingering on Arthur, "that means defending her sanctuary from the Roman dogs that seek to destroy it."

**_A/N:_** Please drop me a review and tell me what you think.


	4. The Story of Her Birth

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. 

_**A/N:**_ Anyone who is here to leave a scathing remark about the whole Camille Blackfox fiasco, don't waste your time. I can't believe this is even happening. I'm so disappointed in the KA fandom community. If you don't know what I'm talking about, don't bother trying to find out, you'll either hate me and bombard me with emails telling me how 'bitchy' I am, or you'll laugh and realise just how petty some people can be. I considered not updating until this whole ridiculous thing blew over, but I felt that I owed it to my adult readers to post a new chapter and not give in to this stupid review war. Hell, I even considered dropping this whole thing and running back to the Harry Potter universe with my tail between my legs. But that's not going to happen. If any of you are actually offended by what's happened, I apologise. I believe in writing full-length, useful criticism that can help another writer improve their writing, and I supposed that fellow fan fiction writers were in the same state of mind. Seems I have been awfully mistaken and I'm sorry for that. Everything I say is just an opinion. Take it as you will. I've been informed that I have become a 'bitchy reviewer' with an 'opposing team' and that people probably won't read this fic because of that. Hopefully we can all be big enough to get over this whole absurd thing. Oh God. I bet someone just got really offended. Maybe I should just shut my mouth.

On another note, thanks to everyone whose been reviewing. You're beautiful and I love you all.

**Summary:** Years after the battle on Badon Hill, Lancelot has resigned himself to a loveless life, ever watching from the sidelines. But his hope is slowly restored when he meets a young woman, who fills his life with light, like the rising of the moon.

Crescent Moon

By katemary77

Chapter Four: The Story of Her Birth

_Soon as the evening shades prevail, _

_The moon takes up the wondrous tale, _

_And nightly to the listening earth _

_Repeats the story of her birth.  
_- Joseph Addison in the "Spectator", no. 465, Ode

"That was some nice archery back there," Lancelot remarked, pulling Midnight alongside Corin's dappled mare, which she had decided to name Callisto.

"Thank you, Sir Lancelot, but surely you have seen a woman wield a weapon before?" she replied.

"Aye, I have, but not like that," he answered.

"Then you have never met an Amazon."

"An Amazon, Corin?" the man scoffed. "Surely you jest!"

"And what of knights, Lancelot?" she countered. "Are they not also the stuff of legend?"

Lancelot waved this aside. "You're not seriously telling me you're an Amazon, are you?" he asked, leaning forward in his saddle.

"I'm only joking, you need not worry," Corin replied with a wicked grin. "I am a lady of Artemis, that is all."

They rode in silence for a while, Lancelot staring wearily ahead at his friends and Corin concentrating closely on directing Callisto over the many tree roots that clustered the forest they were crossing.

"Tell me your story, Corin."

Corin turned to look at the knight. "What do you mean, my 'story'?"

Lancelot shrugged and gestured toward the other knights. "I've been travelling with these men for close to twenty years now. I know all I wish to know about them. We still have half a days ride ahead of us and this landscape becomes tiring rather easily." He smirked. "Therefore, at this moment, you serve as my only means of entertainment. Indulge me, please. I beg you." The curly-haired knight pulled his hands up before him in a pleading gesture. "Tell me a story. Tell me your story. Tell me any story."

Corin sighed. "All right, Lancelot, I shall strike an accord with you. I shall keep you entertained with tales and conversation on the journey to Camelot if you teach me how to fight."

"To fight?"

She nodded.

"Very well," Lancelot conceded, holding out his hand to shake Corin's, but when the girl put her slender hand in his, her quickly turned it, placing a soft kiss upon her knuckles.

Corin let out another bell-like peal of laughter. "You are a sly dog, aren't you? You're not trying to woo me, Lancelot, are you?"

"I don't know," he replied, with his infamous smirk. "Are you wooable?"

She laughed again and took Lancelot's hand, giving it a firm shake. "That remains to be seen, my friend. The deal is struck."

"So tell me a story."

Corin sighed and gazed around at the sombre trees, as if they would give her an idea. Her face took on a nostalgic air for a moment before she began.

"Once, on the Greek isle of Delos, where Leto bore Zeus's children, Artemis and Apollo, a group of great warriors were hunting wild boar when they heard the cry of a small child. After close inspection, they came across a little girl, only a babe in arms, at the base of a tall tree, with a small fortune in gold and jewels nestled in the bottom of her crib. Perplexed and not knowing what to do with the babe, the warriors decided to offer her to the nearby Temple of Artemis, in payment for the wild things they had taken from the Lady's domain during their hunt.

"So the warriors gave the child over to the priestesses, where she was named…" Corin sought around for a name for a moment, her brow furrowing in thought. "Caitlyn!" she finally pronounced in triumph, and Lancelot gave a little chuckle. "Caitlyn, a name befitting a servant of the Virgin Goddess," Corin continued. Parents were never found, though it was speculated that perhaps Caitlyn was the bastard child of one of the noblemen in a far away village, borne by a commoner or harlot and meant for sacrifice in payment for their sins and to keep shame from the family.

"Nevertheless, the babe was raised in the temple and was taught to read and write and heal and dance to appease the Lady. The High Priestess, seeing in Caitlyn the grace of the Huntress, told the girl the many secrets of the Gods and taught her the sacred rituals, meaning for Caitlyn to take her place when she was gone."

Corin's eyes shone for a moment, taking on a lustre Lancelot had not seen before in the girl.

"The warriors who had found Caitlyn came back often, and joked and laughed with the girl and became a family. Soon, the High Priestess departed to the Asphodel Fields and Caitlyn rose and took her spot. Many years passed in happiness with Caitlyn and her adopted family, and Caitlyn thought she would marry one of them when she became a woman and left the temple. But then, an incursion of foreign invaders began and the great warriors left the island and never came back.

"The invaders took over the nation, sullying the land and desecrating the temples of Caitlyn's religion, and she lived in fear that the foreigners would come to Delos and burn her temple; the last place of worship to Artemis, and her Lady would be forever forgotten. For a while, the temple stayed safe and hidden in its forest, but then Malania, the youngest daughter of a noble lord who had bent to the invaders, grew weary and hateful of her position as acolyte, underneath a parentless bastard, and betrayed the temple to the conquering army.

"It came swift and hard," Corin said with little emotion. " The priests and priestesses had little time to defend the temple. It was sacked, defiled, the men killed and women taken to the slave markets. Caitlyn was sold to a horrible man who took her very far from her home to a barren fortress in a cold country where her purity and freedom was taken from her, and the sacredness of her Lady's grace stolen."

Here, a small, sweet smile alighted upon Corin's curved lips as she regarded Lancelot softly.

"She was there for many months, drowning in a dank cell in the dark, but then, one beautiful night, she was rescued by a knight in not-so shining armour named… Lachlan." Corin snickered as Lancelot began laughing. "Lachlan healed her and brought Caitlyn to his best friend, the King. The King was a kind and noble man who granted her leave to travel with them back to their palace and the beautiful Queen, who, like her husband, was noble and gentle-hearted. And Caitlyn was allowed to start a new life in a new country, which, despite its temperature, was quite charming. And she lived to be a very old woman who died happily in her sleep, where she was finally able to rejoin her Lady in Elysium and spend eternity in the Fortunate Islands."

Lancelot was silent for a moment, contemplating all that he had been told. But one fact stood out above the rest. "Your betrothed… he was killed."

Corin nodded. "Just one of the thousands that died defending the country from Rome."

"How is it that you could marry?" Lancelot asked. "I mean, I don't mean to pry or anything, but I thought priestesses were meant to stay virginal."

"They are," she breathed quietly, touching the tips of her fingers to her left forearm. "But not forever. When a servant of Artemis decides to marry, a ritual is performed and she is freed of the temple."

"But you – "

"I was not given such a courtesy," Corin cut in. "If Acheron had of returned, I would have left the domain of my Lady, for him."

"Tell me of him," Lancelot said gently. "Sometimes, it is best to speak of the things that pain us."

She nodded, gaze locked ahead. "Acheron had only seen fifteen summers when they found me. He was the son of a Greek nobleman, a great warrior, even at his young age. Acheron was a very sweet, gentle man."

"Did you love him?"

"Yes," Corin answered, tears blurring her vision. "But not the kind of love they speak of in poetry and epic tales. I never lusted after Acheron, nor did I ever feel a great desire when I saw him. It was a soft, quiet love. You must understand, Lancelot, that in Greece, marrying a priestess, particularly one of my stature, was consider a great honour, almost as much as marrying royalty. And Acheron was my closest friend, the best man I've ever known. It was a very wise match. But yes, I did love him."

By now, the sun was beginning to creep below the horizon, turning the sky a brilliant orange hue that reflected on Corin's face, making her appear almost like a child.

"How old are you, Corin?"

She smirked. "How old are you?"

"I will be thirty-two in Spring," he answered. "And you?"

"Guess," she said with a grin.

"Eighteen."

Corin laughed. "You flatter me, Sir Knight. I am much older than that."

"Twenty?" he guessed, frowning when Corin shook her head. "You can't possibly be older than twenty-five," he exclaimed, somewhat astounded at her youthful appearance.

"I am twenty-two, Lancelot, and once I get all this grime off me, I will look it."

They rode in silence for a while, each staring into the encroaching darkness.

"You are not holding up your end of the bargain very well," Lancelot joked. "Tell me, why do you wish to know how to fight?"

Corin shrugged. "I never want to be at the mercy of another man again. In the real world temple dances and tales are quite worthless, I have learnt," she said stiffly.

"Not so worthless when you're travelling in this bare country with nothing to occupy your mind," Lancelot teased. "Tell me one of these worthless tales."

Corin nodded wearily. "Do you know of the Trojan war?"

Lancelot shook his head. "Not much of it."

"Then I shall tell you of it, for it is a great story of love and tragedy." And then she launched into the great saga of the Trojan War, weaving with her tongue the many characters into the air before Lancelot and filling his mind with intricate paintings of the clear blue Aegean sea, the mighty walls of Troy and the flawless face that launched a thousand ships.

By the time Corin reached the part where the Greeks built their wooden horse, coincidentally the only part Lancelot knew, Corin was tiring, the pain of her injuries and the malnutrition she had suffered showing clearly on her face. Slowly, her voice dulled and died out, and she began a slow descent off the horse, fatigue finally claiming her body.

Diving forward, Lancelot managed to catch Corin in his arms before she hit the ground, and pulled her until her legs were slung over his lap, her body pressed against his and her head resting on his shoulder. After tying Callisto to his horse, Lancelot took Midnight's reins in one hand, using his free arm to hold Corin securely. And in this fashion, the Sarmation knight and the young priestess rode through the last off the woods and into Camelot.

_**---------- **_

As they rode through the thick gates that protected the King's court and palace, a strikingly beautiful dark-haired woman rushed out to meet them.

Lancelot sucked in a dry breath.

Guinevere.

"Arthur! You're back!" she cried joyfully, laughing as the King jumped of his horse and enveloped her in a tight hug, lifting the Queen off her feet. "Knights, it is wonderful to see you all return unharmed," Guinevere said properly, giving a small curtsey.

It was then that Corin started to stir, and when she felt the strong arm around her, instinctively panicked and struggled to free herself.

"Shhh, shhh, Corin," Lancelot soothed, loosening his hold on her, and she began to calm when she heard his soft, deep voice. "You're safe. You passed out and I carried you here on Midnight."

Blearily opening her cornflower blue eyes, Corin nodded. "I'm sorry, Lancelot, I guess I was more tired than I thought."

Lancelot threw her a rakish grin and winked. "No problem at all, my lady."

Helping her dismount, Arthur led Corin to the Queen and presented the priestess to his wife, whose eyes were wide with curiosity. "Guinevere, this is Lady Corin. Lancelot found her in Antonius's fortress, being kept as a slave. Corin is skilled in healing and has accepted my offer to come and live in Camelot as our personal physician."

"It is an honour to meet you, my lady," Corin spoke, giving a curtsey.

"And you," Guinevere smiled. "Come, we must get you cleaned up. I'm sure you're dying for a bath," she said warmly. "I fear my husband has been living with men for too long and forgets such womanly necessities."

Corin laughed and took the proffered hand. "Lead the way, Lady."

_**----------- **_

Corin sighed with pleasure and sunk beneath the steaming water. As she surfaced, she heard mirthful snickers spilling from the mouth of the beautiful woman leaning on the edge of the small tub.

"Been that long?" Guinevere asked, her eyes sparkling warmly.

"Yes," Corin moaned. "I think this is possibly the best thing that has happened to me today. Taking a bath."

"I know the feeling," Guinevere said. At Corin's confused expression, she continued. "I was once shown the hospitality of a Roman lord. Those knights really do have a thing for damsels in distress," the Queen laughed.

Corin nodded, a small frown upon her face and ran a hand over her sopping wet hair. "I don't think my hair has ever been so knotted," she said with a chuckle.

"Here, let me," the Woad said happily, ecstatic at having a female for company, and took a wooden comb to Corin's hair.

After many minutes, winces, grunts of pain and hurried apologies, Corin's hair was untangled and clean, her entire body washed down with a lavender scented soap.

Once she was dry, Guinevere carefully re-bandaged Corin's wounds and presented her with one of the gowns from her wardrobe, a deep blue velvet dress trimmed with a dark red. "Here, you may have this," she said. "It does not fit me properly and I did not wish to insult the dress-maker by giving it back. I think it should fit you well."

"Are you sure, Lady Guinevere?" Corin asked.

"Of course," the Queen smiled. "I have far to many dresses to begin with. We shall commission some to be made for you in the morn."

Corin bowed her head as she took the gown. "My deepest thanks, my lady. You and your husbands generosity is too much."

"Nonsense," Guinevere replied, her hand resting on Corin's arm. "It is the least we could do for you after your ordeal." She gave the Greek a gentle squeeze before smiling widely. "And if you and I are to be friends, which I do hope, you must start calling me by my name."

Corin laughed and took the soft gown into her hands. "Very well, Guinevere."

"That's more like it. Now come, or we shall be late for dinner."

**A/N:** Hope that wasn't to clichéd for you. Humph. As for the whole Acheron bit, I was trying to portray, although I don't think very successfully, that Corin wasn't really _in love _with Acheron, rather she loved him like a very, very close friend and understood that it was a clever match.

Allow me to take this moment to point out that the majority of this story is completely historically inaccurate. I'm Australian and the only English history we are taught starts when they colonised my country, many, many years after King Arthur. As for the Greek mythology stuff, I'm really into it at the moment and most of what's in Crescent Moon is real, but sometimes there will be something I've adapted to fit the story. Elysium, the Asphodel Fields and Fortunate Islands are all places in Tartarus, or the underworld.

Please review. Let me know if your still reading this after everything. I need some reassurance :P


	5. The Star of Love

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. 

**A/N:**Wow. I never in my wildest dreams expected such a response to this fic. I am so overwhelmed and I love you all. Thank you so much! I'm having a bit of an issue that I hope you might be able to help me with. I've had an anonymous reviewer claim my story is 'twisted and wrong' and belongs in the pornography world… I totally respect that person's opinion, and I confess to being a little worried. I was just wondering if you could tell me what you think this should be rated. It's a little hard with me because in Australia we have completely different ratings, so I'm not sure what should be what. Over here, I think this would be rated M or MA, but I have no idea what that means in the U.S. So, if you could, could you give me an idea on what I should rate this?

Shoutouts to those who reviewed Chapter Three go to… **_Southernhun, Haley2, SarmatianKnight13, Evenstar, engelslovesmarx, urhallucinating, szhismine, Calliope Foster, i wish i were a cloud, Lalane Michaels_**… and review responses for Chapter Four…

**_Sweet A.K:_** Thank you so much! Hope you enjoy this chapter.

**_HGandRHrforever:_** Thanks! I hoped people would like the different names… I hope you like this chapter! And I totally agree with you. H/G and R/Hr rocks.

**_Evenstar:_** I love that you said they seem really natural, that was what I was trying to go for. As for them making progress, I'm trying to make this story and the romance in it as real as possible. So there'll be heaps of stuff with them together, but I'm going to wait awhile until they really get into it. I don't want this romance to turn out like my last, when the main couple are suddenly all in love and stuff. But I promise it won't take too long!

**_Jemiul:_** Thankyou! Hope this is soon enough and to your liking. Heehee.

**_Valia-Elf:_** Thank you for all the reviews! It's your first KA fic? Oh, that makes me feel so proud. Lol, I won't be worrying too much about the history, creative license, yada yada yada. Thanks for reviewing, hope you like this one.

**_Sheiado:_** Drama is so not my cup of tea either; I'm so glad the whole thing was resolved. As for the motivation speech, is was sorely needed and thank you so much for giving it. I love that you like Corin, I hope she's a very likeable character. Lol, the training part _will _be interesting to read, that kind of stuff is SO not my forte. So anyway, here's the next uppie, thanks so much for your review, and I hope you like it!

**_je suis une pizza_**: Lol, I asked my French friend the other day what your name meant. She had a good laugh when I said it. Heehee. Now she keeps asking me what flavour I am. Thanks sooo much for your support, I thought I was all by myself. I hope you like this chapter!

**_i wish i were a cloud_**: Thankyou for still reading! I hope you like this chapter.

**_Captain Black Athena_**: Thanks so much for your review and support. I hope you like this chapter!

**_Urhallucinating:_**I will definitely, _definitely _keep that in mind. I've never really had a beta before, how does it work? Hope you like this chapter…

**_PhoenixFyre:_** Thanks for reading and reviewing! Hope you like this one.

**_Andromahke_**:blushes furiously: Thankyou so much! I'll definitely be continuing this story after receiving such a wonderful response to it. I love all that kind of history too, especially the Greek mythology, so expect heaps of it in the future.

**_Flaming Mushrooms:_** Thank you SO much for your review! I figured that I'd be a little off in the time span, but I either just went with it or made Corin immortal, which I didn't think would go down too well, lol. I simply LOVE Greek mythology as well, and I've included the myth about Persephone and Hades, ala your request, in one of the chapters coming up. I love the whole pomegranate thing, it's so beautiful, so expect some of that too. Lol, I know I suck with commas, I always have. I reckon I musta missed a big chunk of English when I was a kid but I'll definitely pay more attention to the little blighters now that you've said that. Thanks so much for pointing it out. The whole Camille thing is totally over now, thank God, and you were right; she did respond to it maturely. Again, thank you so much for your review and I hope you like this chapter.

**_Anonymous:_** I'm really sorry you feel that way, but I'm sure that the content of Chapter One wasn't graphic and most definitely not pornographic. Perhaps I'm wrong, I'll have to look into it. As for the whole name-spelling thing, I've heard it a couple of different ways (eg. Tristan, Tristran and Tristam) but I decided to go with the majority and go for the first. Sorry if that bothers you.

**Summary:** Years after the battle on Badon Hill, Lancelot has resigned himself to a loveless life, ever watching from the sidelines. But his hope is slowly restored when he meets a young woman, who fills his life with light, like the rising of the moon.

Crescent Moon 

By katemary77

Chapter Five: The Star of Love

_The Crescent-moon, the Star of Love,  
Glories of evening, as ye there are seen  
With but a span of sky between-  
Speak one of you, my doubts remove,  
Which is the attendant Page and which the Queen?_

- By William Wordsworth (1842)

Arthur and the knights stood, as was proper, when a young servant announced Queen Guinevere's approach.

Staring morosely at the table not wishing to look upon his King's wife, who he felt such betraying emotions for, Lancelot failed to notice the wide grins that settled on each knights' face when the door was opened.

It was only when Galahad, who was sitting beside the dark knight, elbowed Lancelot that he realised anything had happened at all. "See? What did I tell you?"

Brow furrowed, Lancelot glanced up to see what all the fuss was about and felt his eyebrows raise.

Galahad certainly had been right.

Corin, now clean and dressed in one of the Queen's gowns, was standing beside and a little behind Guinevere, her cornflower eyes glinting in the firelight. Watching the two women take their seats together Lancelot smirked in faint amusement; they were almost complete opposites, Corin all honey and gold to Guinevere's pale winter night.

The two ladies sat talking quietly throughout the meal, and Lancelot could tell they were becoming fast friends. The knight discreetly followed the Queen with his dark eyes, watched her laughing gaily with the Greek priestess, her slim, white hands moving through the air as she conversed with Corin. Guinevere's eyes were bright with a fierce happiness that Lancelot had not seen with her in any company but Arthur's, and the brooding knight wished, not for the first time, that such joy were directed at him.

"She is a remarkable woman," a quiet voice said beside him as the meal came to a close, and Lancelot did not have to turn to discern whom it belonged to.

"Yes, Tristan," he answered, his gaze locked on the Queen. "She certainly is."

"I think, perhaps, Lancelot," the quiet scout said, clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder, "that you and I are seeing different things."

_**-  
**_

_**-**_

_**-**_

That night Lancelot found that again sleep eluded him. He lay for a while gazing blankly at the stone ceiling of his chambers, but soon grew bored of his comatose state and decided to take a walk in hopes that the activity would occupy his restless nerves.

But it was not to be.

The knight had failed to notice the flickering torchlight dancing on the stone walls and so was completely unprepared for the collision that took place as he rounded the corner into the main part of the castle. Hurriedly shooting out his arms, Lancelot steadied the other person, only to snatch his hands back as if they had been scalded when he felt the textured silk of the Queen's gown.

"I'm sorry, my lady, I did not see you there," he said, turning his eyes to the floor.

"No, no problem at all, Lancelot," she replied, seemingly unaware of the way the knight winced as his name rolled so easily off her tongue. "I must've been distracted, no need to apologise."

He nodded, not trusting himself to say anything.

"Are you alright, Lancelot?" the Queen asked with a worried tone.

The knight nodded firmly. "Fine, Lady. Goodnight then." He continued on his way, walking down the darkened hall, only turning when his name was called softly.

"Why do you never say my name?" Guinevere asked, her head cocked to the side. "I cannot remember a time you have."

Lancelot's brow furrowed and he shrugged. "I know not. Goodnight, Lady." And with that, he turned and walked away, his hands trembling almost imperceptibly at his sides.

When the knight reached the topmost battlement of the castle, overlooking the valley of Camelot, Lancelot was surprised to see a slim figure gazing ahead, face upturned toward the moon. He knew at once it was Corin, and took a moment to survey the woman he had saved from bondage. She was wearing a pale blue cloak over what Lancelot presumed was a nightdress, and the hood was thrown back, allowing her unbraided hair to fall in a sheet down her back.

"It is hard," she said quietly, her gaze not turning from the silvery orb that hung in the sky, "to gaze upon something so beautiful that we can never touch."

Lancelot moved beside her, his hands resting gently on the stone parapet. "Yes," he said, turning his eyes to the moon as well. "And she is very beautiful."

Corin traced the stone with her fingers, her eyes entranced by the movement. "You love her, don't you?"

Lancelot sighed. "I do not know. It seems that way sometimes. But I would never betray Arthur by acting on it.

She nodded, her face silvery in the moonlight.

"How did you know?" the knight asked.

Corin smiled bittersweetly. "It was the way you looked at her."

"Do you think ?"

"No," she answered him. "I do not think the Queen knows."

He sighed again and endeavoured to change the subject. "Why do you trust me, Corin? Trust us?"

She looked pensive for a moment. "I knew a knight, once," she admitted softly. "He was a very good man, and he spoke of you."

"Who was this knight?" Lancelot asked curiously.

"His name was Branor," Corin answered.

Lancelot remembered him. An intelligent boy who had taken to Lancelot during their training, and who had grown into an honourable man with a kind heart and a strong thirst for freedom. He had eventually been shipped off to serve in Rome, rather than Briton, along with many other stout fighters who Lancelot had become fond of. "I remember Branor," Lancelot chuckled. "He _was _a good man. Wherever did you meet him?"

"In the coops where the Romans kept the slaves, actually," she said, with a bitter hint of irony to her voice.

"A slave?" Lancelot demanded. "Why was he made a slave?"

"He didn't wait out his fifteen years, Lancelot," Corin told him. "Branor received word that his mother was sick and dying, so he tried to leave. Didn't get out of the city before they caught up to him.

Lancelot shook his head sadly; just another way that the Roman conquerors had ruined something pure of an already tainted world.

"Last I saw him, Branor was being bought by an exceptionally rich young Roman widow, and he was an exceptionally good-looking man." She laughed melodiously. "Suffice to say, I think the knight will enjoy his time spent at Lady Mariana's estate."

Lancelot laughed with her, however feebly. "And you say he spoke of me?"

Corin nodded. "And Arthur. He told me many stories of you and the others. Said you were a brave, kind man, though sometimes you forgot it. And Branor told me that I would never meet a man so admirable as Arthur."

"And he was right," finished Lancelot.

"Yes, he was."

"How do you like Camelot, Lady Corin?" Lancelot asked.

"It is very beautiful," she smiled, "and the moon is so much brighter here. But I cannot deny that I miss the island."

Lancelot nodded and they stood in comfortable silence for a moment, each lost in the softly lit valley before them.

"Do you miss your home?" came the sudden query.

He shook his head. "I did, for a while, but I was a young boy when I came here, and Samartia grows fainter in my memory every day."

Corin sighed heavily. "I do not wish to forget Greece."

"You won't," Lancelot assured her. "Your heart would not let you. Delos is the place you were born, the place where you were shaped into who you are. Delos is your beginning, and it's very blood runs in your veins. But sometimes, Corin, you make your own home… in a place that you never expected you could."

"You never wish to go back?" she wanted to know.

"Sometimes," Lancelot admitted. "But then I think of Arthur and the other knights, and I know I could not. Briton, Camelot, is my home now."

Corin turned back to the moon and closed her glowing eyes for a moment. "I only hope it can become mine as well."

_**-**_

_**-**_

_**-**_

The next day, Corin woke to an annoyingly insistent tapping noise. Moaning into her pillow, she waved her hand vaguely in the air as if to shoo away whatever pestering creature was making such a sinful racket at that ungodly hour.

"Corin? Corin, it is time for you to wake up! I'm coming in!"

Recognising the half-amused, half-exasperated voice, Corin groggily raised herself off the warm, comfortable mattress as the Queen entered, several other women carrying swaths of fabric in tow.

"Why are you up, Guinevere? It is not yet dawn!"

The dark-haired Woad laughed and moved to the hangings that were strung across the window. "Not yet dawn!" she cried, yanking the drapes back to reveal a bright, sunny sky. "Corin, it is two hours 'till midday!"

The Greek gasped and jumped out of bed. "Oh my, I am so sorry! I had no idea," she began, horrified she had slept so late.

The Queen laughed and held up her hands to stem Corin's hurried apologies. "No harm done at all, Corin, you have been injured and were no doubt exhausted from yesterday's journey."

Corin grinned as she thought of the late night she had spent on the battlements, talking to Lancelot, but quickly changed this into an apologetic grimace. Glancing around at the three women who had followed the Queen, Corin raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"This is Gilda," Guinevere said, indicating the older woman who had a stern look on her face and was studying Corin severely. "Gilda is our dressmaker," the Queen continued, "and these are two of her trainees, Nilla and Marianne. Ladies, this is Corin, the castles personal doctor."

Corin smiled and nodded to each as she was introduced, before the plump dressmaker hustled her onto a small stool and wrenched her arms out to her sides. "Write this down, Nilla," she demanded as she began measuring Corin, rattling off numbers and mumbling to herself all the while. "Now, she said promptly, stepping back to survey Corin critically, "are there any particular colours or styles you prefer?" she asked the bewildered priestess.

"Not really," Corin stammered. "I've been wearing the same type of dress since I was a young girl. Temple garb isn't exactly the most exciting attire in the world."

Gilda clucked her tongue and turned expectantly to the Queen, who chuckled and shrugged. "What do you think would suit Lady Corin?"

"Well," the woman began thoughtfully, clicking her fingers at her apprentices who rushed to display the different fabrics they had brought with them. "I think this and this would suit her nicely," she said, indicating different materials. "And some blues. And something with a nice scooped neck."

Guinevere nodded. "Really, whatever you think is best, Gilda. Corin will also need a few plain dresses for when she is tending the sick," she added, giving her new friend a sly wink, "and a pair of breeches, a tunic and shirt. For riding of course," the Queen said quickly, seeing the horror struck look on Gilda's face at the thought of a lady in such attire.

Grinning, Corin mouthed a silent 'thank you' to the Queen over Gilda's greying head.

"I can have a couple of them done by this evening, my lady," Gilda informed the Queen, "but the rest will take to the weeks end."

Guinevere conceded and thanked the dressmaker for her time as she ushered them out of the room, turning back to Corin as the door snapped shut and rolling her dark eyes. "That woman, I swear! She is such a tyrant!"

Corin giggled as she pulled on the soft velvet dress given to her the previous night. "A tyrant, Guinevere? Surely she is not _that _bad."

"Oh, but she is!" the Queen laughed, as she took the other girls hand and dragged her out of the room. "Come, Corin," she said determinedly. "I shall take you to breakfast and then, you shall see Camelot in the light of the sun."

_**-**_

_**-**_

_**-**_

Sighing, Corin sat heavily upon her bed and leaned into the soft duvet, running her fingers over her face as the sun bled it's last light into her room.

After a quick breakfast, Guinevere had taken Corin on an entire tour of her new town, from the castle gardens to the stables, right down to the smelly tanneries and dye-makers. Corin had also been introduced to Bors, the only retired knight, his wife, Vanora, and their thirteen children. Camelot was indeed a handsome city, where truth, goodness and beauty reigned. The people were happy, she had noted, no trace of poverty or disease to be seen, and it's streets filled with joyous laughter and the happy cries of children.

The citizens of Camelot had greeted Corin warmly, gazing upon her as if she were an exotic butterfly passing through on a summer wind. Some had even brushed their fingertips across her aureate skin, the sun-kissed colour being completely alien to the cool-tempered isle.

Corin liked Camelot, she couldn't deny that, the country was bursting with life and despite the less than desirable weather, the land was lush and green and beautiful in it's own right.

But a part of the Greek girl would always miss her homeland, whatever it had become now, and her heart ached to gaze upon the clear, cerulean water of the Aegean and hear the low, soft murmuring of the temple priests. The situation Corin found herself in made her smile bittersweetly; nothing behind her but a dying land and a forgotten religion, and before her a thriving country filled with people who welcomed her with open arms. But she found she could not wholly give herself to Briton and it's people, for Delos and her lost family still had a hold on her heart, however faded it was, and she feared that if she moved on and gave herself over to her new life he entire memory of her home would fade as well.

"_Delos is your beginning, and it's very blood runs in your veins," _Lancelot had told her.

"Maybe you are right, Sir Knight," Corin whispered into the air. "Maybe I will not forget."

Slowly, slowly, the coiled spring inside her unwound, and Corin began to let go.

**_A/N:_** Tada! Hope you liked. Review! And make sure you let me know what this should be rated.


	6. Her Midnight Throne

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. 

_**A/N: **_

**_Sweet A.K:_** Thank you! I'm trying to really incorporate the whole 'unrequited love' thing into it as much as possible, because I think far too many authors just don't deal with it at all. Thanks for the review!

**_je suis une pizza: _**Lol. A pizza who no one like. I love it. Poor little creature indeed. I hope there is enough of the other knights in this chapter to satisfy you. If not, let me know and I'll try to write some more in. I'm glad everybody likes that Lance didn't fall immediately in love with Cor. Good stuff. Thanks so much for the reviews and support!

**_Andromahke:_** Thanks for another great review! I'll probably keep the rating here, though it might go up for a future chapter. I'm trying to focus on Lance's relationship (or lack of) with Guin, so I'm glad you like it. Hope you like this chapter!

**_Shorty51: _**Thank you so much! I hope this was quick enough for you and that you enjoy this chapter!

**_Szhismine: _**I'm glad you like the mythology! I've always loved that kind of stuff and I'm so happy no one has complained about it, cos it's not going away! Thanks for reviewing!

**_Evenstar:_** Good! Don't worry, you won't have to wait too long and there will be plenty of fluff and sexual tension in the chapters leading up to it. I just admit, I hadn't thought to hard on what Bors does now he is retired, but now that you've asked, he still attends any of their meetings, but doesn't go out and fight. Now he spends his time being a father to his many children and making more of them. Heh. Thanks so much for the support and reviews!

**_i wish i were a cloud: _**Really! Thank you so much for saying that! I thought his last line was very fitting too, and I tried to make it so it wasn't hugely obvious. Lol, your story isn't porn either. It kinda made me laugh when I read that it was, because I've read some pretty graphic stuff on this site and this most definitely is not bad at all. Though it may get a little more… heated later. Thankyou so much for your continuous reviews, and don't worry about the length of them. The longer the better! Lol, I haven't said it too much because I wanted to keep the focus away from Corin's looks as much as possible, but her hair is a blonde goldeny colour. My best friend is from one of the Greek islands and Corin's appearance is based partly on her. She has very gold skin, gold hair and blue eyes. Hope you like this chapter!

**_Valia-Elf: _**Lol, I'm glad we share the same opinion! Thanks so much for your reviews and support, I appreciate it beyond words. Hope you like this chapter!

**_Elemmire: _**And I love you! Thanks so much for reviewing. I'm glad you like how I'm portraying Lancey, though he may get a little sappy in the future. I'm a hopeless romantic at heart. But never fear, I promise lots of drama and angsty angst. Hope you like this chapter! And as for the reward, you'll just have to keep reading…

**_Flaming Mushrooms:_** Oh my, you are my favourite person! Your reviews are so encouraging and inspiring! Lol, I can promise lots of internal conflict, don't you worry about that! As for the whole unrequited love thing, I can't just give away my plot, now can I? But you're sorta on the right track. I'm so happy everyone likes that Lancey is still in lub with Guinevere. I actually hadn't read the story of Echo and Narcissus when you mentioned it, although I had heard of it and knew the main gist. But I just read it then. Uh. Such a sad, unfair story. But then, most Greek myths are that way. Lol, if you're a geek then I am too. We can be geeks together! I'm so glad you like the convo between Lance and Cor, especially that line you pointed out. I didn't want her to come right out and say it, and I thought that was a nice way for her to say it, especially considering Artemis is Goddess of the Moon. And keep rambling! I love reading your reviews so much! Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Hope you like this one…

**Summary:** Years after the battle on Badon Hill, Lancelot has resigned himself to a loveless life, ever watching from the sidelines. But his hope is slowly restored when he meets a young woman, who fills his life with light, like the rising of the moon.

Crescent Moon

By katemary77

Chapter Six: Her Midnight Throne

_How like a queen comes forth the lonely Moon _

_From the slow opening curtains of the clouds _

_Walking in beauty to her midnight throne!_  
- George Croly

A few weeks later only moments after Apollo had driven his fiery chariot across the sky, Corin, fully healed and aching for some physical activity, found herself with a borrowed bow in the archery yard of Camelot.

Drawing a slim arrow and placing it to the bow, Corin drew the string taut and fired, embedding the wooden shaft deeply in its target. Smiling faintly, Corin nocked another arrow and aimed. She was just about to fire when –

"You're up early."

Jumping, Corin let the arrow go and watched dismally as it sailed and sunk into the board at the other end of the field, three hands from its intended mark.

"You missed," the deep, accented voice said, and Corin turned to find the knights' scout standing directly behind her, his dark eyes glinting with amusement under his choppy, unevenly cut hair.

"I can see that," she said dryly, setting out to collect her spent arrows. "And why are you up so early?"

"I thought I asked you that," Tristan joked at her retreating back.

"Nay, you did not," Corin threw over her shoulder. "You merely commented on the hour."

"Oh," he nodded. "I wasn't sure. Thank you for confirming that for me."

"Anytime, Sir Knight," she mumbled, yanking her arrows out of the heavy wooden board.

They spent the next hour or so arching silently, each discreetly peeking at the others technique and trying to discern any weaknesses. Tristan could find almost none in Corin; her aim was perfect, her skills honed by many years behind a bow. Her only failing would be that she was slightly limited in far-range shooting, as she was not as physically strong as he. Corin, however, noticed that the scout often clenched his fists irritably at his sides, nonetheless furtively, and on occasion he would wince with pain as he loosed his arrow.

"Hey! You were starting without us!" came a sudden call from above them.

Turning, Corin and Tristan found Gawain and Galahad looking down on them from the castle. "Starting what?" Corin yelled up to them.

"An archery tournament!" Gawain shouted. "We want to see which of you is better! You two stay right there, we'll go and get the others."

Sighing, Corin and Tristan nodded as the two young knights above rushed off to find their friends.

Galahad, turning to face them once more before they rounded the corner, grinned cheekily. "And don't you fire another arrow until we're there!"

_** -  
**_

_**- **_

_**- **_

"Are you sure you are fully healed, Lady Corin?" Tristan asked as the other knights took their place in line.

"Yes Tristan, I assure you I am perfectly fine."

"And you dressed fittingly for an archery competition?" he said, glancing down at her pale rose gown.

Growling softly, Corin turned to the man. "Please, Sir Knight, it is only a dress! Stop making excuses!" she cried exasperatedly.

Bors laughed raucously, as did the other knights. "That's right, lassie, you tell him," the boisterous knight chuckled.

Arthur, the only knight who was not taking part in the competition, surveyed the growing crowd. "The first part of the tournament will test speed. Each contestant is given twenty arrows in the quiver upon their back, and the aim is to see how many each can shoot within fifteen seconds. When the first whistle sounds, they will shoot, and will stop by the second whistle, when we shall see how many of my noble knights will remain in the competition against Lady Corin," the King said with a wry grin. "I will give a count before we start."

"One…two…three!" Arthur gave a shrill whistle, and the air was filled with the sound of bowstrings and arrows cutting through the air and the dull, satisfying _thwack _as each arrow hit its target.

All the knights had exceptional shots, but it was still clear who would make it to the second round. Corin, Tristan and Galahad waited patiently while their arrows were returned to them and the boards at the opposite end of the field were moved a further twenty feet away.

Arthur's piercing whistle sounded once more, and Corin drew her hand back to the quiver behind her, aimed, and fired, repeating this eight times before the time, cut shorter than before, was up. Surveying the targets, Corin saw that Tristan also had eight arrows embedded in his target, but Galahad only five. Bowing and giving Corin a sly wink, the youngest knight retrieved his arrows and left the archery line.

"Sir Tristan and Lady Corin have made it to the second and final part of the tournament, which will decide the winner," Arthur told the excited throng of people. "The marks will be set sixty feet away and each shall fire his or her arrows into the target. Every time they hit the bullseye the board will be moved twenty feet back. This will be continued until there is one remaining archer, who will be declared winner of tournament."

"Ready… aim… _fire_!"

_THWACK! _

The boards were moved to eighty feet.

"Ready… aim… _fire_!"

_THWACK!_

The boards were moved to a hundred feet.

"Ready… aim… _fire_!"

_THWACK!_

A hundred and twenty feet…

"Ready… aim… _fire_!"

_THWACK!_

A hundred and thirty feet…

The game continued until the sun was high in the sky, and both Corin and Tristan had reached an amazing 340 feet away, almost at the end of the huge training field.

Letting out a low breath, Corin reached behind her, nocked an arrow, and aimed carefully. She knew it would be her last shot.

"No praying to your Lady, Corin," Lancelot said slyly from where he watched with the King.

She scoffed, her eyes narrowing on the bullseye. "Do you really think I would pray to my gods over something so little as an archery competition?"

"I'm praying to mine," Tristan said quietly as he watched her take aim.

"I would be too, Tristan," Galahad laughed. "You're about to get beaten by a girl."

Smiling sweetly, Corin released the string and watched as her arrow sailed in an ark, embedding itself directly in the middle of the distant bullseye. "Your shot," she told the other knight, giving him a brief nod.

Tristan frowned and pulled an arrow from his quiver.

"Come on, Tristan, do it for all of us," Bors growled. "Don't let this little snip of a girl beat you!"

Tristan nodded slightly and pulled the string taut, his face briefly contorting in pain, before loosing the arrow, immediately dropping his bow to the ground after he did.

Corin didn't need to look to know that the arrowhead would be mere millimetres from the centre.

The crowd gave a collective gasp.

"Lady Corin wins," the King announced to the crowd with a slightly surprised tone. After a short moment of astounded silence, the gathering of Camelot's citizens burst into raucous applause, each calling out praise and congratulations to the golden-haired girl.

Corin nodded meekly and turned Tristan. "You are a worthy opponent, Sir Knight," she told him sincerely. "That would have been my last shot."

The knight nodded and smiled as his comrades swamped the lady before him, accepting her commiserations with dignity.

"We will have a dinner tonight to celebrate," Arthur told the knights and Corin.

They all let out similar shouts of delight and moved in one throng toward the castle to celebrate, leaving Tristan standing alone on the field.

Or so he thought.

"What ails your hands, Sir Knight?"

Tristan looked up sharply, astounded that someone had discovered his troubling appendages. "It is nothing," he murmured to the girl, flexing and unflexing his fingers. "Just a little ache is all."

Corin frowned. "I could help you, if you would let me. It would be a shame to let something silly like pride stand in the way of using your hands, for it will only get worse."

Tristan nodded silently and stalked off, taking his bow with him. "Congratulations, Corin," he threw over his shoulder. "You truly are an admirable archer."

She spoke her thanks and sighed. The scout loosing the full use of his hands would be a huge disadvantage to Arthur and his knights. Grumbling incoherently about silly men and their silly pride, Corin strode quickly off the archery field, a nice hot bath foremost in her mind.

_**-**_

_**-**_

_**- **_

Corin sat at the small vanity in her room and gently let her long hair loose of it's braid, running her nimble fingers through the tangles before sweeping up the sides into a twist at the back of her neck, the remainder falling down to her waist.

Walking over to her cupboard, Corin carefully rifled through her newly made dresses before coming to a stop at the deep scarlet gown Guinevere had told her to wear, being the most elegant of her wardrobe. It was a beautiful dress, with a wide scoop collar that showed the curve of her neck, and delicate gold ribbing at the hem and waist. The only problem was that it was Roman styled, with slits from the shoulder to elbow, and Corin had not yet shown her arms in the company of others since her days as a priestess.

But she could not so blatantly go against what her Queen and friend had asked of her, so she slipped the dress over her head determinedly, giving herself a firm nod. And just as she had slid on her slippers, a soft tap resonated around the room. Corin stood up curiously to see who was at her door.

"Lancelot!" she said in surprise as she swung the heavy wooden door open. "Is everything alright?"

The dark knight smirked and gave Corin a short bow before offering his arm. "I come to escort the champion to dinner."

Corin tilted her head back and laughed. "And would you have escorted Tristan to dinner, if he had won?"

Lancelot shrugged. "Luckily, that question need never be answered as you, my fair lady, beat him so soundly. So, will you allow me to escort you to dinner, Corin?"

She curtsied and smiled, looping her left arm around his right. "As you wish, Sir Knight."

They ambled down the hallway in amiable silence for a while, before Lancelot glanced down and stopped suddenly in his tracks, pulling Corin's arm out of his. "You have a tattoo," he said idly, his eyes fixed on the small crescent moon on the inner side of Corin's forearm, just before her elbow, with an arrow running through it and a star settled in the corner.

"Yes, every servant of Artemis is given the moon," Corin told him. "The arrow that pierces mine represents my being huntress and defender of the temple, and the star is Sirius, brightest in the Heavens, and symbolises my standing as High Priestess.

Lancelot nodded and placed her arm back in his as they continued walking. "Did it hurt?" he asked curiously.

"Yes," Corin admitted. "Quite a bit, actually."

"I can imagine," he replied dryly, guiding her into the dining room.

"Ah, and here she is," the King, standing and raising his goblet to Corin along with the rest of the knights and the Queen as the Greek hurried to her seat. "Let us raise or drinks to Corin, who has finally done something that none ever thought possible; beaten our enigmatic scout at his own game."

Corin blushed prettily as Tristan, grumbling good-naturedly, threw her a cheerful wink and drank deeply from his chalice.

"To Corin!"

_**-**_

_**-**_

_**- **_

"More wine, Corin?"

"Oh, yes please, Vanora," the Greek girl gushed, "that would be lovely!"

"I think Corin may've had enough wine tonight," Tristan said smugly from the dark corner where he sat, carefully cutting up and eating an apple with his knife.

Corin's eyes widened. "Entirely untrue!" she denied promptly, her voice full of disbelief. "I don't know how you could suggest such a thing, Sir Knight, it is downright scandalous!" Standing up indignantly, Corin set out to the bar where Vanora cradling her newborn babe, but found herself to be slightly hindered when she was pulled into the lap of a rather inebriated knight.

"Corin, sweetling, where do you think you're going?" he said, burying his curly head in her shoulder.

"Sir Knight!" Corin cried, "I am a Lady! Not some woman of ill repute! I really do think you should remove your hands."

Galahad groaned and nodded into her back. "You're right, Corin," he mumbled, releasing her from his tight hold. "I'm so very sorry."

Corin stood and laughed, placing a kiss on his brow. "No harm done. Can I get you anything from the bar?"

The youngest knight groaned again and shook his head. "No, Corin, I think I've had enough tonight."

Nodding, the priestess turned to resumed her trek to Vanora, but once again found herself to be impeded, but this time by a broad chest that she ungracefully bumped into.

"Ow."

Chuckling, Lancelot, whom the chest belonged to, steered Corin over to a chair and sat her down.

"I think this shall be the last time I accept an invitation to the tavern, Lancelot," she said, rubbing her forehead gingerly.

"Ah, but Gawain and Galahad can be a most persuasive pair," he joked, looking her over to make sure she had obtained no further injuries from their small collision. "But this may be the last time I allow you anywhere near large quantities of wine."

Corin growled. "I am not drunk," she insisted. "Just… pleasantly numb."

"Well, Corin," he informed her, "there are plenty of other ways to achieve this 'pleasantly numb' state, let me assure you, that do not involve six goblets of wine. Would you like me to take you back to your room?"

"As long as you promise that you won't try and show me any of these other ways," she said half-seriously, only then noticing how many malevolent glares she was receiving from the women in the room.

"Sold. Up you get, then."

After many theatrical goodbyes, Lancelot and Corin were out of the tavern and walking through the quiet streets of Camelot, on their way to the castle.

"I remember the very first time I got drunk," Corin said fondly. "I was only thirteen or fourteen, and I had snuck into the wine cellar. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about." She laughed gaily. "I must've drunk a whole bottle of our finest wine before Acheron found me."

"And how much trouble did you get in?" Lancelot wanted to know.

"None!" Corin cried triumphantly. "He scolded me very briefly, before taking down a bottle of his own. Always had a soft spot for me, Acheron."

When they had reached Corin's room Lancelot made to step inside but was stopped by Corin's hand on his chest. "Uh uh," she said playfully, waggling a finger at him. "Don't even think about it, Knight. I've heard enough stories about you."

Lancelot moulded a look of mock-hurt onto his face. "You wound me, Corin! What you are suggesting had not even crossed my mind!"

"Nevertheless, it is late and I must go to sleep," she told him. "Besides, you have a tavern and lots of lovely bar wenches to get back to."

Lancelot shook his head. "Sleep sounds good to me too, Corin. Goodnight then."

Catching his arm before he turned around, Corin impulsively lent up and placed a soft kiss on Lancelot's cheek. "Sleep well, Sir Knight."

And she closed the door on Lancelot, leaving him standing bewildered in the torch lit corridor. _'I am a lady of Artemis, that is all,'_ she had told him some weeks ago, and Lancelot would spend many nights contemplating exactly what that meant.

**_A/N:_** La la la. Review! Hope you like it. If you did, tell me! Just letting all you lovely people know that very, very unfortunately I have started school. (Sigh.) Year Eleven. Uh oh, only a little while to go and then this little girl will be in uni! What a scary, terrifying though. So yeah, what I'm trying to say is that updates might not be so frequent, as I try to have a few chapters ready and waiting before posting. But I'm still avidly writing, so don't fret, I shouldn't slow down TOO much. Now, review!


	7. Fair Regent of the Night

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. 

**_A/N: _**Thank you thank you thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I'm not going to do responses tonight because I just got home from workie and I'm really tired and just wanted to get this posted before going to bed. Unfortunately I must be up very very early tomorrow for my Extension English class. Don't know why I chose it… Anyway, please oh pretty please leave a review for me to read when I get home from school tomorrow! Hope you like this chappie…

**Summary:** Years after the battle on Badon Hill, Lancelot has resigned himself to a loveless life, ever watching from the sidelines. But his hope is slowly restored when he meets a young woman, who fills his life with light, like the rising of the moon.

Crescent Moon

By katemary77

Chapter Seven: Fair Regent of the Night

_And hail their queen, fair regent of the night._  
- Erasmus Darwin, Botanic Garden (pt. I, canto II, l. 90)

The next morning Corin woke to the soft pitter patter of raindrops and the pounding headache of a hangover. After a momentary lapse of utter confusion, Corin soon recognised that not only was the thumping in her head, but on her door as well.

Grumbling to herself about rude awakenings, Corin stumbled out of bed, threw her pale cloak over her nightdress and swung the door open. "What on Earth do you – oh… Tristan…" Clutching her robe tighter around her, Corin stepped back and allowed the silent scout to enter her room. "Was something the matter?"

A short look of consternation crossed the knight's face, before he reverted back to his usual stoicism. "My hands," he muttered vaguely, hazel eyes flicking to hers. "You said you could do something…"

Corin nodded and realised that she was going to have to take the initiative in this situation. "Right, yes, come with me." Slipping on some shoes, Corin grasped Tristan by his upper arm and directed the knight out of her room and down the hall, to a medium-sized room the King had set up for Corin. She set Tristan down on a stool by a large bench and immediately began scrounging around in one of the many cupboards for one of the ointments she knew was in there.

"Here it is!" she cried jubilantly, pulling out a dark greenish looking balm and setting it upon the bench. Retrieving some thick bandages from a drawer, Corin sat across from the scout and set to work.

"Now," she told him, as she rubbed the salve into his callused palms, "this needs to be done each day, so you will come to me every morning and I shall do it for you, yes?"

Tristan nodded grudgingly, his gaze fixed on her nimble fingers as they deftly bound his hands tightly with the strips of material she had dug up earlier.

"I'm binding it so you can still use your hands, but do not take them off unless you are going to put them straight back on, okay?"

"Okay," he said gruffly. "What's the balm that you're using?"

"It's one I used to make back at the temple," she told him. "We'd all use it after we had gone hunting, that way our hands never managed to become like yours are." She chuckled. "For someone who uses his hands so much, you certainly don't take care of them."

Tristan shrugged. "I never knew to."

"Well, we have amended that."

"Will I still be able to arch?" he asked apprehensively.

She laughed again. "Yes, of course, I know better than to separate a warrior from his weapons."

Tristan chortled. "I won't ask how you came to learn that."

Corin smiled, her eyes glinting mischievously in remembrance. "Yes, and you are better for it, for it is a long and gruesome tale."

Tristan broke into a seldom-seen smile. "My lady, I find it difficult to believe anything concerning you could be named gruesome."

Corin patted his cheek affectionately once she had tied the final knot. "You waste your flattery, Sir Tristan, for I know you only have eyes for your bird. Besides," she added seriously, giving his bound hands a gentle squeeze, "I need no compliments to help a friend."

Standing, Corin crossed to the many shelves that were stacked against the wall and replaced the green balm.

"Come back tomorrow morning," she told the knight over her shoulder, "and I shall redress your hands. And then perhaps after," she added, turning to face Tristan, "we can go down and practice on the archery field."

He nodded his consent and made his way to the door. "Of course, Lady Corin, I look forward to it."

She smiled brightly. "It is a date, then."

Tristan chuckled lightly and stepped out of the room only to pause briefly on the threshold. "I would appreciate if you could – if you would – "

"Confidentiality is an essential aspect of healing," Corin interjected smoothly, bringing her cornflower eyes to gaze deep into Tristan's. "If you wish it, I will not tell a soul."

"I wish it," he said gratefully. "I just don't want the others to think – "

"You need not explain yourself to me, Tristan."

He nodded shortly. "Thank you, Corin."

_**-**_

_**-**_

_**- **_

Changing into her breeches and a light shirt, Corin grabbed the beautifully carved bow Jols had given her and headed down to the archery range. She wasn't surprised to see Tristan there with his bow, already adjusting to the bindings she had placed on his hands. But she was surprised, however, to find Galahad and Lancelot sparring in the middle of the court with wooden swords, in front of a large group of young boys.

The teens were watching avidly as with each stroke, Lancelot advanced upon his younger opponent, who, while brilliant with his sword, was no match for the god-like Lancelot. Watching him move in graceful circles, each thrust, parry, or block as effortless and precise as the next, Corin was reminded of the heroes of old, Theseus and Achilles and Hector.

The mock-battle soon ended, though, when Lancelot tripped Galahad onto the ground, the tip oh his wooden sword coming to rest at the other knight's throat. "Surrender?"

Rolling his eyes, Galahad pushed the sword away and jumped up, grumbling under his breath about poncy show-offs and the like.

Wiping sweat from his brow, Lancelot addressed the boys before him. "Get yourselves into pairs and grab a sword from the pile over there. Galahad and I will take you through some drills." Turning, he spotted the young Greek girl who was standing off to the side, a loose smile on her face. "Corin! What are you doing down here?" In answer, she held up her bow. Lancelot scoffed. "As if you need to practice."

She shrugged. "I was also looking for you."

"Oh? And why would that be?"

"Well, seeing as I'm all better now, I thought it only fair that you hold up your end of the deal," she told him, and her blue eyes flickered over to the boys who had begun to tentatively spar with each other. "But I can see you're a little busy."

The knight nodded. "These young gentlemen have aspirations to be knights one day," Lancelot explained, "and seeing as though he wants them to be the best, Arthur thought it fit to have even better teaching them. Perhaps you would like to join the group?"

Corin, laughing at Lancelot's arrogance, thought for a moment. "Sure."

Grinning, Lancelot threw her his sword and ran quickly to retrieve another. When he got back, Corin smiled wryly up at him. "Should I be scared?"

"I would be," Galahad muttered as he stalked past them, examining the young men sparring around the courtyard.

"Am I holding this thing properly?" Corin asked, glancing down dubiously at the sword in her hands.

Lancelot shook his head. "Hold it a little tighter, and move your hand down on the hilt."

"Like that?" she replied, adjusting her grip.

Lancelot nodded. "That's fine."

Slowly, the knight led her through a few simple drills, and once she became more confident with blocking and parrying against his blade, Lancelot upped his attack, now openly sparring with her. Corin's eyes widened slightly in apprehension when she recognised the knight was no longer following his own drill pattern, but she took this in her stride and did her best to keep up with her formidable opponent.

But after a few more minutes, the Greek's arms were growing heavy, tired from constantly swinging the sword to block Lancelot's attack. Suddenly, Corin tripped on a small rock and lost her footing and in an attempt to regain her balance reached out and grasped Lancelot's tunic, unintentionally pulling the knight down with her. With a loud "_Oof!"_ Lancelot landed heavily on top of Corin. Chuckling, he rested his head on her shoulder momentarily before bringing it up to gaze at Corin.

Her eyes were wide, her breath coming in shallow gasps, and her heart racing beneath her chest, the weight of a man atop her sickeningly familiar.

At first, Lancelot dismissed Corin's behaviour akin to the behaviour of every other woman who had found herself pinned underneath the handsome knight, but soon recognised the look in Corin's eyes not as desire or lust, but sheer terror.

…_She was suffocating, his sweaty hands groping at her face as she screamed from the flames erupting in her abdomen, her hands pulling desperately on the chains that shackled her wrists… _

"…_Welcome to Briton," the one who had bought her sneered, staining her pure virginal robes with her own dark red blood. "Do what you want with her," he directed at his men, before spitting on her face and stalking out of the room. "Greek slut…"_

…_She turned her face at the slightest noise, and they came to rest upon a young man who was standing at the door, looking on at the brutality the Romans were inflicting upon her, and as his deep black eyes flicked up to her face, they glinted with uncontrolled rage and she felt a shudder pass down her spine before she turned her gaze away… _

…_He was dead and still lying atop her, and she cried and screamed, frenziedly trying to rid herself of his sweaty, clammy corpse before even more blood wept onto her vestal robes and she was stained irrevocably…_

"Corin."

She snapped out of her trance and looked back to Lancelot.

Grimacing, he rolled off Corin and onto his feet, offering her his hand. Hesitantly, Corin accepted and stood, and Lancelot was just opening his mouth to ask if she was okay when a pain-filled cry shattered the courtyard.

Hurrying over, Lancelot and Corin parted the crowd to find Galahad kneeling beside a redheaded boy who looked as if he were trying desperately not to cry. "Lincoln," Galahad informed the newcomers. "One of Bors's. Tripped and fell."

Corin nodded and knelt down to examine the boy's right leg, which was swelling rapidly. Running her fingers gently over the bone, she frowned as Lincoln let out a loud gasp. "His bone is broken," she informed the two knights. "Galahad, go and find Vanora and Bors." Nodding, the young knight sprinted off to find Lincoln's parents. "He cannot walk," Corin told the remaining knight. "Would you carry him?"

With a grim smile, Lancelot gathered Lincoln into his arms and they rushed hurriedly into the castle. By the time they had reached Corin's healing room, Lincoln was sobbing quietly, his face contorted in pain. Corin directed Lancelot to lay Lincoln on one of the cots situated at the end of the room.

"It hurts," the boy whimpered quietly, and Corin bent down over him, pushing his crimson locks off his forehead.

"I know it does, darling," she murmured, "but you have to be a brave knight for me, like your Pa, okay?"

Lincoln nodded and grasped the bed sheets tightly with his hands, his sobs quieting.

"Good boy," Corin smiled, before crossing hastily to the stone benches. "Lancelot, light the stove over there and fill that pot half with water and put it on the flame," she ordered as she pulled out various herbs from her collection and crushed them with a smooth stone pestle.

The knight complied, and soon Corin had added her mixture of herbs to the boiling water and had administered the tea to Lincoln, directing him to drink it. Almost the second after the cup had touched the boy's lips, Bors, Vanora and Galahad burst into the room. Vanora rushed over to the child, while her husband followed more composedly.

"Oh, my sweetling, are you alright? How do you feel?" Vanora gushed, running her hands over Lincoln's face.

"I'm fine Mama," he replied. "It just hurts a little, is all."

Nodding, Vanora turned to Corin. "How is his leg?"

"Broken," Corin informed her. "I've given him a herbal tea to reduce the pain and help Lincoln sleep, I'd rather not touch the break while he is awake, it would be painful for him. Drink," she reminded the boy gently.

Nodding, Lincoln brought the cup to his lips once more and downed the drink in a few hearty gulps, grimacing at the odd taste. Soon, after some tender coaxing from Vanora, the child was peacefully asleep and Corin began to make a poultice for the boy, while his loving parents watched over him devotedly.

_**-**_

_**-**_

_**- **_

Hours later, when the castle had settled into placid evening, Corin returned to her small surgery to check on Lincoln and his mother, who had opted to stay the night in one of the many beds.

She entered the room with two bowls of broth for mother and son, and found that Lincoln had wakened and was being sung to sleep by his mother. This seemed to be a routinely thing, for soon Lincoln was demanding his favourite.

"Sing that one about the boat, Mama, the one that goes to the Mountain."

Vanora nodded and sung in her high, lilting voice a chilling lullaby that sent shivers down Corin's spine.

"_A gentle breeze from hushabye mountain  
Softly blows o'er lullaby bay  
It fills the sails of boats that are waiting  
Waiting to sail your worries away_

_It isn't far to hushabye mountain  
And your boat waits down by the key  
The winds of night so softly are sighing  
Soon they will fly your troubles to sea_

_So close your eyes on hushabye mountain  
Wave goodbye to cares of the day  
And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain  
Sail far away from lullaby bay."_

"That was a beautiful song, Vanora," Corin said quietly as she entered the room, setting the food she carried atop the table.

"Thank you," the mother of thirteen replied. "It's one my mother used to sing to me when I was a child."

"It's no use," Lincoln said gravely. "I just can't get to sleep."

Vanora sighed. "Perhaps Corin will tell you a tale of her homeland," she suggested, for she knew her child had a love for legends and tales.

"Oh, yes!" the boy pleaded. "Would you, Lady Corin?"

Corin smiled sweetly. "Of course. What would you like to hear about?"

"Blood!" he demanded. "And war!"

Vanora tutted and shook her head. "You're to much like your father, you are," she scolded. "Something a little milder, perhaps, Corin."

Corin surveyed the protective woman in front of her and grinned. "I have just the story. I shall tell you of Persephone and Hades, King and Queen of the Underworld, land of the dead. How does that sound, Lincoln?"

The injured boy nodded enthusiastically.

"Alright," Corin began, smoothing her skirt with her hands. "There was once a Goddess named Persephone, and she was so beautiful that everybody was in love with her, even the bitter Hades, lord of the dead, who loved nothing and wanted her for himself. One day, Hades spied Persephone collecting flowers on the plains of Enna, and he rose up from the earth and abducted her, whisking her away on his black-horsed chariot to Tartarus."

Lincoln grinned impishly, delighted by the story.

"Broken hearted, Demeter, Persephone's mother, wandered the earth searching for her beloved daughter until the sun-god Helios, who sees all, revealed what had happened. Blind with anger, Demeter, who ruled over the Earth, lay a curse upon the land so that the plants withered and died and nothing would grow or bloom.

"Understanding that this could not last any longer, Zeus sent Hermes down to make Hades release Persephone and return her to her mother, but the beautiful Persephone had eaten the ruby seeds of a pomegranate, and thus was bound to the underworld for the rest of eternity."

"And then what happened?" Lincoln asked, weariness already claiming his small body.

"Well, Zeus forced a pact between Hades and Demeter, that Persephone would spend one-third of the year below the Earth with Hades, and the other months she would spend in the light with her mother. But whenever Persephone abides in the dark world of death, Demeter withdraws her grace from the world and refuses to let anything grow, and the world turns bitter cold."

Lincoln nodded sleepily, before closing his light blue eyes and drifting into a sweet slumber. Smiling, the Greek lay her palm on his forehead, and looked to his mother. "How does he fare?"

"Good," she answered. "He said his leg only hurt a little."

Corin smiled. "Excellent. He should be able to go home tomorrow, though he should not put any weight on his leg for three weeks at least, and after that he should use a crutch or walking stick."

Vanora nodded, listening to the healer attentively.

"I'll give you some of these herbs to make a tea that will reduce Lincoln's pain. Whenever he complains of it hurting, just mix a spoonful in with water and have him drink it. It tastes horrible," she added with a quiet laugh, "but it works well."

The older woman nodded again and clutched Corin's hand. "Thank you so much, Corin, I don't know what we would have done without you. The village healer is a very old man and I fear he has gone slightly insane."

"It is no problem at all," Corin answered with a bright smile. "Lincoln is a very brave boy."

Vanora sighed and slumped slightly in her seat. "I fear he is trying to grow up to fast. Lincoln wants very much to be like his father and Gilly, his older brother, but I think perhaps he is slightly in over his head."

Corin smiled kindly. "Mayhap now he will realise this. After all, Lincoln is going to be spending many weeks abed."

"Mmmm," Vanora mumbled quietly, "and perhaps I can bully Bors into spending some time with the boy out of the training field. Did you ever want children, Corin?"

She smiled nostalgically. "Yes, when I was younger. I had an entire life planned out for me. I would leave the temple, marry, start a family, and grow old with many children and grandchildren by my side. But I suppose that is no longer possible," Corin said quietly. "Nobody wants used goods, right?"

Vanora laughed. "Oh, I don't now about that, this is not Rome! And besides," she added with a grin, "look at me. I have thirteen children, twelve of which were borne out of wedlock, and I'm a happily married woman."

Corin snorted. "Well, if it means I have to mother thirteen children only to get married I think I might just decline." She shook her head ruefully. "Honestly, Vanora, I don't know why you put yourself through such pain so many times."

Vanora shut her eyes and leaned back into the chair with a wistful sigh. "Ah, but it means nothing when you hold the babe in your arms, Corin. Mark my words, nothing compares to that feeling."

Corin smiled as Vanora's breathing slowed, her face becoming relaxed and still. Moving as silently as she could, Corin draped a blanket around woman, and then with a last look at the sleeping mother and her son, blew out the lights and left the room.

_**-**_

_**-**_

_**- **_

"The last full moon of spring," Lancelot said quietly as he approached Corin, who was standing still in the moonlight, her hands resting upon the parapet.

She nodded slowly. "Yes, and the time for one of the largest festivals in Greece."

"Oh?" Lancelot questioned, coming to stand close beside her on the battlements.

"Yes, the Great Full Moon Festival. Honouring Artemis as the Moon Goddess and Lady of the Beasts."

Lancelot turned his face from the moon to look at Corin fully. "And what would you do on this day?"

She smiled bittersweetly. "There would be a great hunt in the morning that would last long into the afternoon. The first animal that we caught would be sacrificed to the Lady, and then there would be a massive feast. The rest of the night would be spent drinking, dancing, singing, story-making for the children. It was always my favourite of the festivals," she told him sadly.

Tentatively, Lancelot laid his hand atop Corin's, entwining her fingers with his. Corin smiled sweetly to herself before she gently leaned against the tall knight, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. And they stood like that long into the night, the lustrous light of the moon casting their shadows upon the stone.

**_A/N:_** Ta da! Hope you all liked it. Please drop me a review!


	8. Flooded Fields

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. 

**_A/N: _**Sorry, sorry, sorry! That wasn't supposed to take that long, but five minutes after I would sit down to write something would come along to distract me. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, you're support is fantastic. Hope you are all still reading and enjoying this chapter, I'll try to update quicker next time.

**Summary:** Years after the battle on Badon Hill, Lancelot has resigned himself to a loveless life, ever watching from the sidelines. But his hope is slowly restored when he meets a young woman, who fills his world with light, like the rising of the moon.

Crescent Moon

By katemary77

Chapter Eight: Flooded Fields

_The moon is at her full, and riding high,_

_Floods the calm fields with light. _

_The airs that hover in the summer sky _

_Are all asleep to-night._  
- William Cullen Bryant, The Tides

"Have they been feeling much better?"

Tristan nodded as he nocked an arrow to his bow. "Much. Thank you."

Corin nodded and also readied her bow. "Good, then. But don't think just because your hands feel better now, you can stop treating them."

The scout nodded half-exasperatedly, half-amusedly. "Aye, Corin, I know. You tell me every morning."

She smirked and fired her arrow into the air. "My apologies, Sir Tristan. I do not mean to nag."

"No, we've already got Vanora for that," he replied mischievously.

Corin snorted. "Right you are. Just the other day she started pestering me about how I should 'find a man and settle down, while I'm still young,'" she told him.

"And what did you tell her," Tristan chuckled.

"Well," she began, as she took aim with her bow, "I told her that the only men I feel comfortable around are you knights, and so she told me to marry one of you. But then I pointed out that, really, you're all a bit ugly, so if she _really_ wants to see me tied down, she'll have to give me Bors."

Tristan laughed outright. "I'm thinking that Vanora wouldn't take to well to that."

"Aye, she didn't," Corin snickered. "Told me to get out of her house before Bors came back. Nice shot," she commented, nodding towards the arrow Tristan had just embedded into the wooden target.

"Thanks," he nodded. "How's your training with Lancelot going?"

She laughed. "Dismal. I'm certainly not meant to be a warrior."

"Not a lot of people are," Tristan countered. "They are just forced to be."

"Like you," Corin pointed out. "Like you and the others."

Tristan shook his head. "No. We knights were born to fight. It is in our blood."

"Why do you not leave? Why do you not desire to be free?" she asked with innocent curiosity.

Tristan gave a little shrug. "Because I already am."

_**-**_

Tilting her head up to the sky, Corin smiled happily as the sun's rays slid over her, washing her face in golden light and taking her back to her days on the sunny isle of Delos; the lush green rainforest coming alive with the Lady's wild things, soft white sand beneath her toes, clear blue water lapping lazily upon the shore.

"Corin? Where are you just now?"

Languorously, she turned with eyes half-closed and grinned at Lancelot. "Far, far away."

Smirking, he threw an arm around Corin's waist, squeezing her against him. "Well, how about you let _me _take you far, far away?"

She raised an eyebrow curiously.

"'Tis beautiful day," Lancelot explained, gesturing wildly at the perfect blue sky. "Let us not waste it, for fine weather is a rare thing in this country. What would you say to taking a ride?"

Corin nodded cheerily. "That, my dear friend, sounds wonderful." Still smirking, the knight took Corin's hand in his own, dragging her towards the stables, where Midnight and Callisto, already saddled, stood waiting for them. "My, my, you certainly were confident I would join you," Corin laughed.

He shrugged. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist my charms," Lancelot told her. "Besides," he added with a loose smile, "if you'd said no, I would've just found some other fair maiden to take along with me."

"Yeah, yeah, lover-boy," Corin chuckled as he lifted her onto Callisto. "Whatever you say. The women of this town have long since learned not to dally with you."

Lancelot adopted a look of mock-scandal upon his face, which soon turned to rogue smugness. "But they still do."

Corin laughed outright, the sound musical and bell-like, as she playfully slapped Lancelot in the chest. "Oh, Lancelot, you're a regular scarlet woman!"

_**- **_

They rode for a few hours, hours that were filled with laughter and playful banter and light, easy conversation, before the stopped in the centre of a large meadow for their afternoon meal. Passing her a honey-cake, Lancelot took a moment to survey his riding companion. Corin was wearing her plain riding gear and her hair was held back in a simple, loose braid that fell down her back in a thick, golden rope. Her face, rosy and bright from riding, was peaceful as she gazed contentedly around the field they were in. She took a careful bite from the cake, her hand coming underneath her mouth to capture any escaping crumbs.

"You're beautiful," he blurted suddenly, unabashedly.

Corin frowned up at him and hurried to swallow her mouthful. "Huh?"

He laughed at her perplexity. "I was telling you that you're beautiful, that's all."

"Oh," she said uncertainly, a blush creeping onto her face. "Er, thank you, I think…"

"You're welcome," Lancelot smiled, collapsing onto the long grass, his hands behind his head in a relaxed pose.

Corin, finished with her honey-cake, dusted of her hands and imitated Lancelot's position on the grass beside him. "Wow, look at those storm clouds," she said, pointing out a cluster of almost black clouds heading their way from the North.

"Where did they come from!" the knight exclaimed, wondering how they had escaped his notice.

Corin shrugged. "Still sunny here." Rolling onto her stomach, Corin propped herself onto her shoulders and gave Lancelot a piercing stare. "What's it like? Love?"

Brow furrowed, Lancelot asked, "What do you mean?"

Corin gave a nonchalant shrug. "As I said before, you have a reputation as a womaniser, back at Camelot," she told him. "You've slept with practically all the unattached women in the city, and probably half of the attached ones as well."

"Well," Lancelot began, somewhat smugly, "not _all _of them – "

"All the pretty ones," she amended swiftly. "I was just wondering what it's like - love?"

"Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute," Lancelot said, moving so his elbows supported his upper body. "It's not like I ever loved any of these women – "

Corin groaned impatiently and interrupted again. "Honestly, are all men so thick? I'm not taking about _love _love, I just mean… you know, _love._"

"Ah," Lancelot breathed, realisation dawning, "you mean sex."

"If you must put it so bluntly," she said exasperatedly. "Yes, I mean _making_ love."

"But Corin, I said before I wasn't in love with any of those women, and I think you have to be in _love _with someone to 'make love,' as you put it – "

"For the God's sake, man, you know what I mean!"

He laughed. "Yes, it think I do, but Corin, you've… well, you've…"

"I am not a virgin, yes, but I have never made love, or whatever you want to call it," she said quietly.

"Well," Lancelot answered thoughtfully, "it is a very beautiful thing. And I think that if you did it with a person you _were _in love with, it would be… absolute bliss."

She nodded silently.

"Why do you ask?"

She shrugged. "Before Antonius, I had never known the touch of a man."

"Never? But surely Acheron kissed – "

"Never," Corin interjected. "To touch a High Priestess of Artemis, or any of the virgins gods, even just a kiss, is blasphemy in the highest form. I was truly pure, in all sense of the word." She smiled softly. "And then I saw Vanora and Bors the other day, and they just looked so happy, so in love, and I thought that having thirteen kids, _it _must be pretty darn good, you know?"

Lancelot nodded and smiled, bringing a hand to gently trace Corin's cheek. Before Lancelot knew what was happening, he and Corin were edging closer together, her curved lips parting slightly, her eyelids fluttering closed, their lips almost touching. But then, a clap of thunder sounded, startling them apart, and the Heavens opened up.

_**-**_

Corin laughed gaily as she slid off Callisto's back. Her hair, plastered to her forehead, had turned a dark brown, and her clothes stuck to her body. Lancelot, in much the same condition as Corin, threw her a wry grin. They had found shelter from the raging storm that beat down upon the land in a nearby forest, where the canopy was too thick to let the rain through.

"We'll have to wait it out," Lancelot told Corin as he unsaddled his horse. "We're at least three hours from Camelot, and we can't ride through that storm; we'd catch our death."

Corin nodded, jumping and giving a startled gasp when a particularly vicious clap of thunder sounded.

Lancelot chuckled. "You're not scared, are you?"

She shook her head vehemently. "Just startled, that's all."

"Ah, of course," he said, and then smiled roguishly. "Well, I'm going to go and find some firewood." Whistling merrily, Lancelot stalked off into the woods, pausing to look back and wink at Corin, before resuming his gait and disappearing from site.

Corin stood on her own for a while, eyes flicking frenziedly around the encroaching forest, before swearing crossly and hurrying off after Lancelot, scowl set on her face. "Stupid bloody knight…. I am NOT afraid!" Turning the corner, Corin expected to find Lancelot standing there, an infuriating smirk on his face, but instead, found no one, just the rapidly darkening forest.

"Lancelot?" she called, peering into the woods. "Lancelot, I know you're out there, you great oaf!" Growling, Corin pouted and stamped her foot impatiently. "Lancelot!" she whined, "don't be horrible!" And still, no one came. "Lancelot! Lancelot!"

A worried frown upon her face, Corin gathered her courage as another clap of thunder sounded, and strode purposefully further into the woods. "Lancelot, you better come out right now – "

Corin shrieked when someone grabbed her waist roughly from behind, and turned to pelt her assailant with her tiny fists. "Lancelot you rogue! I'll wring your bloody neck! You incorrigible, insufferable little _twerp_!" Stopping her attack, Corin looked up to see Lancelot chuckling mirthfully, and pushed him gruffly in the chest before yanking his shoulders towards her and pulling him into a tight embrace. "You scared me, you idiot," she murmured, and then stepped away, throwing the knight a disgusted glare when he continued laughing at her.

"Ah, if looks could kill…" he joked, leading Corin back to the horses.

"You would be a bloody mess on the ground."

_**- **_

Corin shivered slightly and shuffled closer to the firelight. Both she and Lancelot had checked the weather conditions outside of the small forest throughout the afternoon, only to find that the summer storm was still raging on.

"We'll have to sleep here, then," Lancelot said with a weary sigh, plopping down besides Corin.

She nodded. "We've still got some food in the saddlebags," Corin managed to get out through her chattering teeth.

"Cold?" Lancelot asked with a smirk.

She grimaced. "I do not understand this country; one minute the sun is shining, and the next it's storming and the temperature's dropped fifteen bloody degrees!"

He chuckled and moved closer, throwing his arm around the shivering girl. "You get used to it," Lancelot told her as she nestled into his warmth.

The corner of Corin's mouth quirked. "Is that a promise?"

Before he could answer, the sharp crack of a twig breaking resonated around the forest, and both Lancelot and Corin's heads snapped around to survey the wooded area behind them. Slowly, Lancelot drew his dagger and nodded to Corin to get behind him. But instead, the Greek girl stepped away from the knight's shadow and took a tentative step towards the dark trees, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

"Look," she whispered, her slim hand reaching out to what Lancelot could now make out as a young fawn, emerging from the dusk. Its eyes were wide and skittish as the fawn took a shaky step towards Corin and the fire. Dully, Lancelot noticed Corin murmuring quietly to the animal, in an attempt to coax the creature further toward her. But before she could get any closer, the fawn jumped and scampered away, leaving a few rustling leaves in it's wake. Corin watched the fawn disappear into the gloom with a dismayed, dull tint in her blue eyes, making them appear almost lifeless. She sighed and let her hand drop numbly to her side.

"Corin? Is something the matter?"

Starting, Corin turned to Lancelot and gave him a dazzling smile. "Nay, nothing at all. Come, let us prepare supper." And with that she turned back to the fire, all thoughts of wild creatures gone from her mind.

_**- **_

When Lancelot's eyes opened, all he could see was enveloping, smothering darkness and for a moment, chaotic, errant thoughts entered the knight's mind as he wondered if he had perhaps gone blind. But then, the black eased and he was able to make out their small, dead fire and the shadowy silhouettes of Midnight and Callisto in the moonless night, the forests canopy too thick to let even the slightest light slither through.

His black eyes searched for Corin, and found her only a few feet from himself, huddled on the ground and shivering in her slumber. Lancelot frowned; he could've sworn Corin had been on the other side of the fire when they had lay down to sleep. His frown deepening, Lancelot loosed the clasp that kept his cloak around his neck and swept the material over Corin, tucking the edges in underneath her. Laying back down considerably closer than he had been, Lancelot spooned the Greek girl against his chest, his arms wrapping around her securely, and fell back to sleep.

_**-**_

"Good morning, sunshine," a cheery voice called as Lancelot groggily rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eyes. Turning, he found Corin standing beside a saddled Callisto, gently rubbing the mare behind her ears. "There's a little dried fruit left in the saddlebag for you," she told him, "but we really should hurry; it is already an hour past sunrise."

Lancelot laughed. "Indeed we should, Lady Corin, I shudder to think what manner of search party Arthur has looking for us."

She nodded. "And I'm sure you were sorely missed at the tavern last night, those poor bar wenches would've had to make do with Gawain and Galahad!"

"Poor bar wenches indeed," Lancelot chuckled.

Corin grunted. "Come on, Adonis, let's get you back to Camelot."

**_A/N:_** Ugh. Totally hate this chapter. It just feels so wrong. Do you agree? Either way, please review and inspire some inspiration into me. What I was trying to convey (not very well) in Corin's convo about sex with Lance is that she is extremely naive and innocent to anything to do with men. Acheron was always a brotherly figure, although she did love him, and everything Corin knows about sex and men and all that is based upon her treatment by the Romans. Although she does understand that that kind of treatment isn't normal, she isn't quite sure what to expect. She is incrediably ignorant and unexperienced when it comes to matters of the heart. Please review!


	9. Night Flowers

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. 

**A/N: **Hey, hey, how's it going? I think I might have to up the rating of this story to R. It's silly, really, the ratings on this. Down here, this would be classified MA, which means that people 15 years old can read it. It's sorta between PG-13 (which we don't have, we only have PG) and R (which is 18+). I dunno. Maybe Australia is a little freer with its ratings. Well, we're a pretty laid-back country anyway so that might explain it. THANKYOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR BEAUTIFUL REVIEWS! – pops open champagne—A HUNDRED! So thank you everyone who reviewed; you really light my fire. Heh. So if anyone has any huge qualms about me changing the rating, give me a yell. There are a few heavy chapters coming up. Should I just put warnings at the beginning of those ones? It won't be fully explicit or anything. Hm. Well, I'll just do that for now…

**WARNING – PLEASE READ! **This chapter contains what some may call R rated scenes… Personally, I wouldn't call it that because it's written, you're not seeing it happen on screen or anything. But everyone is different, so you have been warned!

**Summary:** Years after the battle on Badon Hill, Lancelot has resigned himself to a loveless life, ever watching from the sidelines. But his hope is slowly restored when he meets a young woman, who fills his world with light, like the rising of the moon.

_Crescent Moon_

By katemary77

Chapter Nine: Night Flowers

_The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon._  
- Jean Ingelow, Songs of the Night WatchesThe First Watch

A few weeks after Corin and Lancelot had ridden into Camelot to be greeted by a crowd of anxiously awaiting friends, the sun was rising high over the palace's training grounds, eliciting tiny tears of sweat to trickle their way down Corin's forehead. Grunting, she threw her upper body to the left in order to avoid the sharp blade that came her way.

"Come on, Corin, concentrate," her instructor admonished.

Corin growled. Lancelot had been training her for weeks now and she honestly couldn't see any improvement. Lancelot, sensing Corin's self-doubt, used this as an advantage and sprung around her, pulling her flush against his chest. Wrestling the hilt from her fingers, Lancelot held his dagger to her throat. "Lesson learned; never let your doubt show."

Corin laughed softly, fidgeting in his arms. "Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place."

Grinning, Lancelot pushed her away from him and gave her back the sword. "Again."

Nodding, Corin readied herself and waited for the attack to come. The knight feinted to the left but then brought his sword in a high arc to Corin's right shoulder. Easily blocking the wooden blade, Corin sneakily slipped the short dagger hanging at her hip into her hand and brought her sword around to Lancelot's neck. Once the knight was open, Corin jumped forward and made to plunge her dagger into his chest, but then stepped behind Lancelot and brought her sword slashing down his back.

Both blades fell to ground with a clatter.

"Did you see that?" she whispered, her eyes wide with astonishment.

Lancelot nodded numbly. "I saw it."

Ignoring this, Corin let a huge grin slip onto her face. "Did you see that!" she screeched, before letting out a great peal of laughter. "I hit you! _I actually hit you_!"

The knight nodded again; slightly disgruntled he had let the inexperienced girl trick him. "I know Corin, I felt it."

She laughed once more, whooping with joy, and proceeded to do a small victory dance around the dumbstruck knight. "Aha! This is amazing! I actually hit the famous Sir Lancelot! How do you feel now, Mr. 'I'm Invincible'?"

"It's not like you _beat _me Corin – "

"Oh, it's alright, Lancey, I won't tell anyone," she cooed, pinching Lancelot's cheek.

He growled. "That would be because there is nothing to tell, Corin, you did _not _beat me, I merely _let _you slip past my guard – "

Corin pasted an overly pitiful expression on her face and smiled sympathetically at Lancelot. "It's alright, Lancey, I understand…"

Lancelot rolled his eyes. "That's it, Corin, one more word – "

"One more word about what?" she said, still dancing around the knight. "About the fact that I beat you? That I B-E-A– _Lancelot_!" she shrieked, as the knight pounced on her, wrestling her to the ground. Straddling her legs, Lancelot wrapped his hands around Corin's hips and began to mercilessly tickle her, revelling in the delighted giggles that spilled from her lips. "Lancelot, you stop that now, you devil!"

Grinning, Lancelot gave Corin one last squeeze before he stopped, believing her to be sufficiently punished. Realising their position, Lancelot's smile fell somewhat and he blinked down at Corin, who lay beneath him with a silly smile on her face. Exhaling softly, Lancelot bent down and quickly pressed his mouth to hers. Parting her lips easily, he deepened the kiss, his hands threading into her rich hair.

Corin broke away. "Lancelot…"

The knight nodded and untangled himself from Corin, reaching down to help her up. "I'll see you at dinner, Corin."

She smiled softly, touching her fingertips to her reddened lips. "See you then."

* * *

"Lancelot, could you pass me the potatoes?" 

The knight grunted and wordlessly handed Corin the steaming tureen of vegetables.

"Thanks…" she mumbled, her face falling.

Why was he avoiding her like this?

Frowning, she nudged him in the ribs. "Lancelot, is there something wrong?"

"No, nothing is wrong," he said dismissively.

Corin sighed. He had been ignoring her since their training session that afternoon.

When the meal was finished and the group stood to leave the room, Corin caught Lancelot around the wrist. "Have I done something wrong?" she questioned bluntly. "Why are you avoiding me?"

He muttered something incoherent under his voice. "I'm not avoiding you."

She grumbled. "You're not avoiding me, Lancelot?"

He nodded; seemingly pleased she had grasped the concept.

She nodded wordlessly. "Alright then. I'm going to bed. Sleep well, _Sir Knight_." And with that, Corin stalked off.

He stared intensely after her. Corin lifted a hand to flip her braid back over her shoulder and there it swayed along her back, so sinuous and attractive a moment he could not keep his eyes from it.

* * *

Hours later, Lancelot found himself performing a now nightly ritual: walking the halls of Camelot. But on this night, he found his feet not leading him towards the heavy night sky, nor the moonlit battlements, but a very familiar, dark corridor. After a moment of quiet contemplation, Lancelot ran a hand over the smooth wood, grasped the door handle and stepped in. 

She was sleeping. Her blankets were pushed down to the bottom of the bed, where her long limbs entangled them, and her golden hair was splayed messily across the dark pillow. A single beam of moonlight was shining through the drapes, and played softly across her face in an intimate dance.

As he was standing there, Corin murmured something garbled in her sleep and rolled over onto her side, her hand falling carelessly off the cot. Silently, the knight crept forward and placed that hand back upon her stomach, and then tenderly caressed her silver-tinted cheek. Exhaling sorrowfully, Lancelot turned on his heel and left the room.

It was just as he was closing the door, still visible if only for a moment, that Corin's cornflower eyes opened. After slipping out of bed, her brow furrowed as she padded softly across the room, she went into the hall just in time to see Lancelot before he turned the corner.

"Lancelot."

He turned swiftly, his eyes only just widening as they met hers.

"Lancelot, were you just in my room?"

"No," he answered, without hesitation.

"Really?" she prodded. "I was sure I saw you in there."

"I heard a noise," Lancelot explained. "I wanted to make sure you were alright."

Corin's face remained impassive. "Are you lying?"

"Yes. Goodnight, Corin." And he backed away slowly, the glint of hope and promise heavy in his eyes, before turning and disappearing swiftly into the darkness.

After making her way back into the room, Corin numbly slid down the wall until she was resting on the cold tiles. She understood this was the pomegranate, what he was offering her. If she took this step, there was no going back. She would be bound forever. If she ate the seeds of the fruit Lancelot was offering, something would die within her. But Corin would not be tricked into eating the seeds, as the pale Mistress of the Underworld had. She would eat them willingly.

With a firm nod and a bittersweet smile, Corin rose from her place on the floor and wrapped herself in her pale blue cloak, before striding out the door.

* * *

Without knocking, she slipped into his room, which was only lit by the moon pouring in. Lancelot was sitting shirtless on his bed. He stood slowly and moved toward her like a predator. 

"What's happening?" she whispered, almost inaudibly.

"I think I might be falling in love with you."

It took only a small nod from Corin before his lips crashed onto hers. His warm hands circled her waist and then swiftly slithered up to her shoulders where he pushed her cloak from her body pooling it on the floor. Moving from her mouth, Lancelot trailed kisses down the column of Corin's neck and buried his fingers deep into her hair.

"I think I might be falling in love with you too," she told him, before uttering a small gasp as his lips locked onto her pulse point.

As Corin's hands and lips skimmed idly across Lancelot's muscled chest, he gently pushed her over to his bed before easing her onto it. Crawling up the mattress, Lancelot settled himself over Corin before resuming his heated kisses. "You're so beautiful, I love you, I love you," he sighed sweetly into her skin as her warm fingertips moved from his back to the nape of his neck.

Corin's head was becoming hazy with passion and desire. His touch on her skin was like fire, his lips on hers like silk, he was completely flooding her senses. Running her fingers through Lancelot's curls, Corin felt a strange pull from her belly that she had never felt before, and she gasped into his skin as heat pooled into her body. She breathed in, but there was no air left in the world and all she knew was him.

Running his hand up the smooth skin of Corin's leg, Lancelot bunched her soft nightdress in one hand and smoothly pulled it off her and let his mouth trail down the valley of her breasts. It was when he gently pushed Corin's legs apart that she gasped and cried out loudly in protest. She shoved Lancelot off her roughly and sat up panting in panic. Her eyes were wide with fear as she scrambled to cover herself with the bed sheets.

Lancelot wisely backed away from her, his brow furrowed in concern.

"I can't. I'm sorry," she whimpered, her fingers toying with the ends of her hair. "I just – I just don't – "

"You don't need to explain, Corin," Lancelot said gently, edging closer to her. "I should not have pushed you, I'm sorry."

She shook her head sadly. "You didn't push me, Lancelot, I pushed myself." Wordlessly, Corin tightened the sheet around her before clambering onto Lancelot's lap. Wrapping herself around him, she rested her head against his shoulder. "Forgive me, my love."

"There is nothing to forgive," he told her, laying a small kiss upon her naked shoulder.

Corin nestled herself closer to his warmth. "But I love you," she said, not looking up to him, "and I want to show you."

"But you already have." Leaning back into his pillows, Lancelot brought Corin down with him so she was half on the bed, half sprawled across his chest. "Stay here?"

She nodded sleepily against Lancelot and watched out his window as the moon began to sink beneath the horizon "Yes."

"Goodnight then," Lancelot whispered, slowly bringing her fingers to his lips before entwining them with his own.

And as Corin drifted into a peaceful slumber by his side, Lancelot turned his face away from her to the window and the pale, setting moon.

* * *

A few hours later as the sun made its steady climb across the sky, Corin slipped soundlessly out of Lancelot's bedroom, her blue cloak swishing at her feet. She gulped down an overwhelming sob that was threatening to escape as she closed the door on her love. 

Striding quickly down the hall, Corin carefully schooled her features into an expressionless mask when she bumped into Galahad and Gawain in the hallway.

Glancing down the corridor to his comrade's door, Gawain let a mischievous smirk settle on his face. "And just what were you doing in Lancelot's room this early, Lady Corin?" he asked, taking in her bed-ridden appearance.

Hurriedly flattening her hair, Corin scoffed at the two gentlemen. "Don't be so presumptuous, Gawain! Lancelot is feeling ill and I was merely giving him something to ease his pain."

"I see," Galahad chuckled. "And I suppose he won't be well enough to attend the council today?"

_Damn! _

"Of course he'll attend!" Corin cried convincingly. "Otherwise I wouldn't be much of a healer, now would I?"

Leaving the two gentlemen with that, Corin continued on down the hall swiftly and mercifully made it to the outer battlements before her façade broke. Sinking against the parapet, Corin shakily raised a hand to her temple. And it was only then that she let a few small tears slip down her cheek, soon lost in the puddle of dappled sunlight that shone upon the stone.

_**A/N: **_

Shorter than usual, sorry about that, but I had to cut it their to make the next chapter make sense. Have had to put in those line things because nothing else will work. And I really don't like those things. I didn't really want them to exchange I love you's so early, but it couldn't really be avoided. And Corin isn't a loose woman, so I figure she'd have to have heard it before anything happened like what just happened. She is very confused, this is all new to her. Desire is new to her. But you'll just have to wait and see to figure out what's happening at the end there. (cackles evilly…)

Thankyou all again for your beautiful, wonderful reviews, and please send me more!


	10. Queen of the Silent Night

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. 

**A/N:** Hey hey, IT'S SATURDAY! Lol, I have a feeling that's an Australian show so you're all thing, what the? Ah, Rove, another Aussie icon. Reviews! Thank you thank you. I feel like doing this today:

**_Dw:_** Electricity, huh? Well, that's what I was going for. As for the potatoes thing, LOL! You should've seen my face when I read that. Twas golden. Thanks for informing me, though I don't think I'll change it. Heehee, I totally never knew that potatoes came from America. But then, I've done neither European or American history in great depth until this year, so perhaps I shall learn it now. Thank you for the review!

**_Andromahke:_** Thank you so much for your continuos support with this fic, your reviews are fabulous and very encouraging and stuff. Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed the sex scene, I'm not too good at those so I was the teensiest bit nervous about how everyone would take them. And I know what you mean about 'the perfect dialogue!' I've seen it in some fics, but I can never do it justice. If you're in to HP fics, you MUST read Arrival Unexpected, that has the best 'I love you' but not bit at the end, you will honestly melt into a puddle on the floor. Actually, if you're into HP fics, check out my profile. All my favourite ones are there and seriously, they are so good. But I digress. Wow, I'm talkative (lol) this morning. So, thank you for the reviews, enjoy this chapter!

**_MissBubbles:_** Thank you so much for your review, and for the explanation of everything. I appreciate it. It's so hard to know what to do for a prose story though, because you're not really _seeing _it, if you know what I mean? But anyway, thank you for your review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**_Evenstar-mor2004:_** Thank you! Lol, 'did you see Ned Kelly?' What a question to ask an Australian woman! Of course I did! Believe it or not, Ned is an Australian icon. Not entirely sure why… he _was _a bank robber. But yeh, Joel Edgerton is a pretty big actor down here, he's in quite a bit of Aussie stuff. Do you know he and his wife (Aboriginal icon and Olympic winner Cathy Freeman) just divorced? Yeah, it was all over the papers. You're in! Lol, jokes jokes. My dad sent me a similar message when Brad and Jen called it off. Anyway, thanks for the reviews, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

**_Evenstar:_** Yeah, I see to many fics, or rather I read them, that have this woman who has been tortured/raped/etc get over it too quickly, and although I admit to have doing that I hope not to the same extent. Thanks for the reviews, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**_Coryna:_** Oh, what a pretty name! I was actually tossing up calling Corin that. Such a pretty name. Greek? Perhaps. Thank you for the reviews, I'm glad you've enjoyed reading this, and hope you enjoy this one too!

**_Valia-Elf:_** Yay! You liked it! I was totally scared that everyone would be like, "eugh, this fluff is crap" but yay! You liked it! Thank you so much for the constant reviews, its been such a great support. And I wouldn't get too used to it, things might go wrong yet. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

**_LANCELOTTRISTANBABY:_** Thank you for the reviews, I'm glad you've been enjoying it. Hope you like this one too!

**_Exile of Numenor:_** Lol. I love your story so much! Seriously, I love it. YOU update soonn! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, when I figured out who you were I was like "OMG OMG OMG!" Yeah, I know, pretty sad huh?

**Summary:** Years after the battle on Badon Hill, Lancelot has resigned himself to a loveless life, ever watching from the sidelines. But his hope is slowly restored when he meets a young woman, who fills his world with light, like the rising of the moon.

_Crescent Moon_

By katemary77

Chapter Ten: Queen of the Silent Night

_Look how the pale Queen of the silent night  
doth cause the ocean to attend upon her,  
and he, as long as she is in sight,  
with his full tide is ready here to honor; _

_But when the silver waggon of the Moon  
is mounted up so high he cannot follow,  
the sea calls home his crystal waves to morn,  
and with low ebb doth manifest his sorrow. _

_So you that are sovereign of my heart  
have all my joys attending on your will,  
when you return, their tide my heart doth fill.  
So as you come and as you depart,  
joys ebb and flow within my tender heart._

- Sonnet of the Moon by Charles Best, 1608 

Corin stiffened.

"And where did you get off to this morning?"

A pair of hands circled Corin's waist, pulling her into a warm chest. and a sharp chin rested softly on her shoulder.

She shrugged, her back still pressed against him. "I awoke early and went for a walk."

"You should have roused me," Lancelot admonished. "I would've liked to have woken with you in my arms."

"I'll remember that," she told him, with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Frowning, Lancelot turned her around to face him. "Corin, is something wrong?"

The Greek shook her head. "No, nothing at all."

He grasped her chin and tilted her head to face him. "Really?"

Corin's eyes were firm. "Yes.

"Good," Lancelot smiled, placing a kiss on her nose. "I have to go to the council."

Corin watched him leave with a frown that quickly changed into a smile when a tall, slender woman approached her.

"Was that Lancelot I just saw?" the Queen asked with an impish smile.

Corin chuckled. "Perhaps. I can't be sure, it all happened so quickly."

Guinevere laughed. "No need to hide it, dear, it was bound to happen sooner or later."

Corin cocked an eyebrow. "What was bound to happen?"

"You and Lancelot falling in love," the Queen told her in a determinedly blasé manner.

"I'm not so sure," Corin answered, her mouth twisting into a frown.

Guinevere sidled eagerly up beside her. "Well come, Corin, give me all the details."

Corin gazed at her piercingly. "I think he is in love with another."

The Queen's brows shot up to her hairline. "Really!" she exclaimed. "Do you know who?"

The Greek nodded. "Yes, I know her. Though I would not name her here."

"Of course, of course" Guinevere accepted. "What are you going to do about it?"

She shrugged and folded her arms across the wall, rested her self against it. "I know not." Corin looked over at the beautiful, unknowing woman beside her, whose eyes were warm and honest. "But I suppose I have to do something."

* * *

"You seem somewhat preoccupied this morning," Tristan noted, nodding toward the arrow that had lodged itself millimetres from the bullseye.

Corin shrugged. "Perhaps I am just a bit."

The scout nodded, knowing that if Corin wished to speak of it she would.

"Lancelot seemed in spirits this morning."

The silent knight smirked as Corin dropped her bow.

"Is that so, Tristan?" she mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Yes," he confirmed. "Haven't seen him look so happy since – "

"I don't think I want to know that, Tristan," Corin interjected smoothly.

The scout frowned. "I was only going to say since just before the Reformation."

Corin nodded as she nocked an arrow. "Yes. I was afraid you would say that."

"Corin!" another voice called before Tristan could reply.

The scout grumbled under his breath. "Speak of the devil."

Lancelot was running breathlessly toward them, his curls bouncing as his feet impacted with the ground. Tristan fought to keep his face straight as the other knight skidded up to Corin and gave her a swift peck on the lips.

Colouring, Corin placed a delicate hand on Lancelot's chest and pushed him gently away. Turning round with his brow furrowed in confusion, Lancelot's eyes fell upon Tristan, whose face was its usual blank canvas, though there was a glint of amusement in the scout's eye.

Tristan held his hands up. "Don't mind me. I was just… leaving."

"No you weren't," Corin scoffed. "We were." Placing her hand firmly in Lancelot's, Corin gave her friend a sweet smile before leading the other man out of the training grounds.

As soon as they had rounded the corner, Lancelot backed Corin against the wall and devoured her mouth in a hungry kiss. "I don't know how I lasted through that meeting," he told her lovingly. "I could barely concentrate, all I could think about was you."

Corin snorted softly. "Well, that won't do, will it Sir Knight? We can't have you losing your concentration during such important councils."

"Important councils?" he laughed, nuzzling her neck. "All we were talking about was trade routes. Incredibly dull." Lancelot brought his lips to Corin's. "Now, come up to my room and let me make love to you."

"You are too bold, Sir!" Corin cried playfully, slapping Lancelot's hands away from her waist. "And we are in public. Control yourself!"

Chuckling, Lancelot placed one last kiss on Corin's mouth and took her hand with his own. "Very well. What would you like to do, then?"

"Actually, I have to go and check on Lincoln," she said, avoiding Lancelot's eyes. "His leg is healed now, but Vanora wanted me to do a last check. It will only take a minute or two…"

The knight grimaced. "Okay. I'll… see you later then."

Corin nodded and moved away from him, walking toward the castle. She looked over her shoulder. "Later then."

* * *

It came as a surprise later, when walking back to her room after visiting with Vanora and Bors, that Corin came across a sickly and pale, though familiar woman, leaning against the door.

"Guinevere! What is wrong!" Corin exclaimed, rushing to the Queen's side.

"I am nauseas again!" the Woad cried irritably. "I have been throwing up for weeks!"

"Why did you not come and see me before?" Corin scolded, not unkindly, as she led her friend into her surgery. "I could have done something for you!"

Guinevere shook her head. "I did not wish to worry Arthur. I had to sneak past him just now."

From the counter where she was preparing tea for the nauseated sovereign, Corin chuckled. "I imagine that would not have been an easy task. He is very devoted to you, the King."

"That he is," Guinevere agreed with a pensive frown. "But tell me, Corin, what is wrong with me?"

"How long has this been happening?" Corin inquired.

"Oh, at least a month and a fortnight, on and off."

Corin nodded. "Stand up."

The ill lady did as she was told and suffered silently the scrutiny of the healer.

"How old are you, Guinevere?"

The Queen frowned. "Two and twenty. Why?"

The Greek nodded again and placed her hand over Guinevere's belly. "And how long has it been since your last moonblood?"

Her frown deepened. "Now that you mention it, over two months. Why?"

Corin let out a clear laugh. "Why you silly girl, you are pregnant!"

There was a stunned silence.

"I am with child?"

Corin nodded happily and grasped Guinevere's hand, placing it over her belly. "Can you not feel that bulge right there?"

A look of sheer happiness spread across the Queen's face. "I am with child!" she hollered, her voice no longer trace of question. "I am going to have a baby! Arthur's baby! Arthur's son!"

Corin grinned. "You are."

"Oh just wait 'till I tell him!" Guinevere gushed. "He will be so happy! We have been trying for so long and I thought – I had started to think that maybe – "

"It does not matter now," Corin interjected swiftly. "I'd say you are almost three months along and with your age I do not see how it could be a hard birth."

The Woad nodded and wiped away a tear that was slowly forming in her eye. Silently, she moved over to embrace her friend. "Thank you, Corin."

Corin laughed again. "Thank you? I did not do anything!"

Guinevere giggled. "If it had not been for you I would not have known I was with child until the babe was coming out!"

Corin rolled her eyes somewhat derisively. "I think that would be rather impossible, Your Majesty."

The Queen waved this away. "Thank you at any rate. You have given me some splendid news."

The Greek smiled graciously. "Very well. Now, you run off and tell your husband!"

Guinevere nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes, I shall." Placing a swift kiss on Corin's cheek, she then rushed out of the room and down the hall. "Arthur! Arthur! Guess what!"

* * *

At the celebratory dinner that night in honour of the King and Queen's unborn child, the whole city of Camelot came alive. Buskers lined the streets and the scent of hot bread and roasted nuts was borne on the wind. The castle doors were thrown open to the people of the town, and they drifted in an out of the fortress laughing and merry-making with the rapturous King and Queen.

Corin, for her part, had celebrated little, and was now sitting snug between Gawain and Galahad, who both had arms thrown about her. Bors, who was sitting across from Corin, was bouncing a wailing babe on his knee.

"Shhh, child!" he pleaded, taking a swig of his mead with his other hand. "Please be quiet! Your Ma is busy working and I must see to your siblings!"

Smiling, Corin reached her hands out to Bors. "Give her here, Bors. Go and help your wife."

Bors sighed with relief and carefully placed the child in Corin's outstretched arms. "You're an angel, Corin."

Settling the babe comfortably in her arms, Corin surveyed the child. She had a head of straw-coloured hair and wide green eyes that gazed at Corin unblinkingly.

"Hey, baby," she cooed softly. "I'm Corin. You're name is Anabelle. Such a pretty name for such a pretty girl."

Anabelle gurgled.

Corin snorted. "Is that so? I agree indubitably."

The babe clambered across Corin's lap until she was standing upright with her tiny hands pushed against the Greek's shoulders. Placing her own hands around the child's waist, Corin smiled widely. "Why hello there."

"Looks like you made a friend," Gawain said from beside her, his voice only slightly slurred.

"It does," Corin agreed.

Shakily, Anabelle pushed against Corin and stood on her own. As if noticing she had not fallen, the child giggled happily and clapped her hands together.

Smiling brightly down at the babe, Corin settled her back down and gazed jadedly around the room. Her mouth quirked when her eyes fell upon a lone figure, staring dejectedly at the dancing King and Queen, who were moving slowly in the centre of the room to a beat of their own, completely enraptured with one another.

She sighed and shifted her eyes back to Anabelle. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Lancelot's dark eyes watched every graceful movement the Queen made in the arms of her love. Her face was glowing with happiness, and brightened even more, if possible, each time Arthur rested his hand upon her womb.

She was pregnant.

_Pregnant. _

It had come as a severe reality check when Arthur had told him.

They were going to have a child.

And Arthur wanted him to be _godfather. _

Lancelot's fingers tightened ruthlessly on the goblet in his hand.

He felt eyes upon him and lifted his own in time to catch Corin shifting to look at the child on her lap. Bors's youngest was beaming up at the Greek, her tiny fingers entwined in Corin's golden locks. Corin laughed as Gawain and Galahad both helped her free her hair from the child's relentless grip. Another beautifully blissful face, Lancelot thought sullenly. Another woman who would ruin him.

Lancelot was disgusted with himself.

He had let Corin come to him last night, let her share his bed, though they had not made love, and what could he give her? What could he possibly offer this beautiful young woman so full of life but a broken heart and a wasted soul?

Nothing.

Her light would diminish, her flame smothered, defeated by the love of a crumbling man.

Finishing off his ale, Lancelot threw one last despondent glance at the King and Queen, before turning and stalking out of the room.

He was too blinded by the moon.

* * *

**A/N: **La la la. This chapter has sort of been chopped in half, so the next will take place on the same night. I forget why I did that, but I know I had a good reason. Ooohhh, is it getting cold in Sydney or what? I do realise that none of you live in Sydney, but it's starting to get cold! I love winter. Yay! Electric blankets. Yay! Fires. Yay! Hot chocolate. Yay!

Sorry. It's 7:32am and I'm about to go to the gym so I've just had a couple of coffees. Mmmm, coffee. Yay!

Ooohhh, hopefully this doesn't give any of the plot away, but I just finished writing… chapter 12 I think, and you're going to need some sad music soon. I suggest "I Grieve" by Peter Gabriel, or something of the same tone.

Please review! I'm getting to that horrible stage of a fic where you get really, really insecure and am like "Oh my God is anyone reading this? Oh my God is this alright, does it suck?" so please, if you're reading and have any opinion and all, give it to me and I will be forever grateful!

Well. I think I've rambled on enough. Have a nice morning/day/afternoon/evening/night.

Kate.


	11. Whitelight

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. 

**A/N: **NOTE: The beginning of this chapter starts directly after the last, so if you forget what happened I suggesterino that you go back and have a squiz. Wasn't going to update today, but my Dad is getting married tomorrow and I probably won't have time to update till Tuesday. So here we are. THANK YOU thank you thank you for all the lovely dubbly reviews, you guys really light my fire. Hope you all enjoy this chapterino! Sorry. Been watching the Simps.

_WARNING! _There are some sexual bits in this one. You might get offended. Or something. Not too hot and heavy, but hot and heavy enough to make _me _squeal and blush. Enjoy!

**Summary:** Years after the battle on Badon Hill, Lancelot has resigned himself to a loveless life, ever watching from the sidelines. But his hope is slowly restored when he meets a young woman, who fills his world with light, like the rising of the moon.

Crescent Moon

By katemary77

Chapter Eleven: Whitelight

_Your whitelight flashes the frost to-night_

_Moon of the purple and silent west._

_Remember me one of your lovers of dreams_

Whitelight by Carl Sandburg

With the sound of the party folk gradually diminishing in his ears, Lancelot's firm strides carried him further away from the hall and toward the encroaching darkness of his rooms. But before Lancelot could turn into his room, a slim hand wound around his eyes, another slithering across his mouth.

"Do not move, Sir Knight, for I am kidnapping you," a voice whispered sultrily into his ear.

"Kidnapping me, Corin?" he murmured, and in an instant had her pressed against the wall, her hands pinned above her head in his tight grasp. "Nap away."

She laughed softly. "Point taken. Now, unhand me, Sir."

His grip tightened, and Lancelot pushed his body closer to hers. "Aren't you supposed to be kidnapping me?"

With a mighty wrench, Corin pulled her wrists from his hold, rubbing them gently. Standing on her tiptoes to gain some height over the knight, the Greek smirked at Lancelot. "Yes, I am. Abducting you, that is. Now, come with me."

Entwining her fingers with his, Corin pulled Lancelot in the opposite direction that he was headed before and soon they were out of the castle, into the cool, placid night.

"And what are you going to do with me, Corin? Tie me up and have your way with me?"

"You wish," she said shortly.

"I do," he affirmed, his hands circling her hips as he pulled her into him, burying his face in her hair.

"Lancelot, stop it," Corin cried, slapping his hands away playfully. "I knew I should have brought a blindfold…"

"Oh, are you into that, are you?"

Corin growled.

"Okay, okay, I'll be quiet. Now, where are we going?"

Corin chose not to answer, and instead lead Lancelot into the stables, where Midnight was saddled and waiting for them.

"My, my, you certainly were confident I would join you," he mocked, his eyes raised in jest.

"Ah, but I didn't give you a choice, did I Sir Knight?" Corin retorted. "Besides," she carried on with a teasing wink, "if you had have objected ardently, I would've just taken Galahad."

Lancelot's eyes narrowed as he lifted Corin onto Midnight's back. "Yeah, yeah, you know I am the only one for you."

She smiled demurely as he settled in behind her, his arm wrapped easily across her stomach. "Yes, I'm beginning to see the truth of that."

* * *

"Stop right here."

They had snuck out of the city, Midnight slipping smoothly in and out of shadows. Once beyond the gates, Corin had directed the horse down into the sloping valley and now they had reached its base, where the river gleamed in the moonlight.

Dismounting, Lancelot helped Corin out of the saddle. "Now, what exactly are we doing here?"

Pulling a thick blanket out of the saddlebag, Corin tugged on Lancelot to lead him away from the horse and then proceeded to spread the blanket across the grassy ground.

"We're having a picnic. Now lie down."

"A picnic?" he asked incredulously. "Corin, it's almost midnight."

She nodded. "I know. But I could see you weren't enjoying the celebrations and I was not going to spoil _my _night watching you mope around so… I thought I might divert your attention from what it was so enraptured with."

Thinking it was wise to discontinue that particular course of conversation, Lancelot nodded silently and lay on the ground, pulling Corin down beside him. Together, they gazed up at the cloudless, inky sky.

"All the stars have come out tonight," she said quietly. "Do you know many?"

He nodded, and pointed towards a bright stream of lights, contrasted against the inky black night. "The Milky Way." He then pointed to a strange, winding shape. "And the Dragon."

"Any more?"

Lancelot shook his head. "I am afraid that is the extent of my knowledge of the stars. And you, Corin?"

She shrugged. "I know some." Shuffling over until her head was partially supported on Lancelot's chest, Corin raised her slender arm and pointed into the sky. "There is Callisto and her son, Arcas, great bear and little bear." Her hand swept through the air, and pointed to a constellation in the far south. "Apollo's son, Opuichus, a great healer, made immortal after he was struck down by Zeus for returning the dead to life."

Tracing her fingers through the air, Corin pointed out another set of stars. "That is Orion, Artemis's beloved companion, who was a great hunter, Orion was mistakenly killed by a single arrow shot from the Goddess. In her sorrow she asked that Zeus place him in the sky where he could remain for eternity."

Lancelot nodded, his hands twining through Corin's golden hair.

"And the last one I know is Lrya, the lyre placed in the night sky as a tribute to the God Orpheus's lost love."

Shifting, Corin lay so she was on her stomach, her chin on Lancelot's shoulder.

His callused fingertips caressed her cheek, pushing strands of gold behind her ear. "I love you."

She twisted her face away. "Do you?"

The knight frowned. "What do you mean?"

Corin's reply was one word, but it was all that was needed. Whispered into the night was a name, a name that made Corin press her eyes closed tightly against tears. "Guinevere." It tasted like ash on her tongue.

Lancelot sat up, bringing Corin with him. "I love you, Corin, not her. I am here with you."

She shook her head. "Really? How can you just… stop loving someone?"

Lancelot bent forward and put his lips to hers, his hands deepening in her hair. When he pulled back, her eyes were closed and a soft wind was playing about her face.

"I love _you._."

"Okay," she whispered. "Okay…"

She couldn't doubt him.

* * *

The sun was sinking below the horizon, and the air was painted in red and gold.

Corin, her arms full of soft, springy cloth, huffed her way into Lancelot's room, swinging the door shut with her foot. "You really should be more careful," she muttered irritably under her breath. "It's not the most difficult thing to block a blade, is it?"

The knight scowled at her and offered out his forearm, which had a long gash running across it. "When that blade is coming from Tristan, yes. And you were distracting me."

Corin glanced up at him under lowered eyelashes. "Distracting you, was I? And just how did I manage that?"

The cool, overly confident knight suddenly became flustered as Corin gently washed out his wound with warm water. "Well, maybe you didn't distract me _per say_ but…"

"Admit it, Lancelot," Corin snorted. "You were trying to be brave and manly by challenging Tristan and ultimately got yourself hurt."

He shrugged and fought to fight a blush. "Maybe. Will I live?"

Corin mock-pouted and wiped fake tears from her cheeks. "Alas, Sir Knight, you are gravely wounded! This may be your last night upon the Earth before you descend into the Underworld!"

Edging closer, Lancelot murmured seductively into Corin's ear, "If it is my last night, shall we not make it a night to remember? Don't you think I deserve some tender loving care?"

Tilting her eyebrows, Corin scrambled away from the knight. "Uh-uh. Don't even try that on me. It's your own fault!"

Backed against the door, Corin watched warily as Lancelot prowled toward her. His strong, capable hands enveloped her waist and, in spite of herself, Corin felt tingles crawl up her spine.

"Don't," she murmured, feeling her resolve falter with every breath she took.

"Stop me," he retorted gently, continuing to lean toward her.

She turned agilely in the circle of his arms and opened the door, but his hand pushed it back. She gasped in surprise when his mouth slid across her collarbone, warm and delicious.

"Don't go away. Stay," he breathed brokenly into her skin.

Suddenly, Corin felt herself being turned around, and Lancelot's lips were crushing onto hers, demanding and powerful, sending spirals of dizzying heat through her. Her breath mingling with his, Corin clutched at his shoulders, painfully aware of every inch of him that covered her. Her jaw slackened, and Corin gave in. His tongue, warm and soft, traced her tingling lips as though memorizing the shape of her mouth. Abruptly, she was hoisted up against him, and her legs impulsively wrapped themselves around Lancelot's hips. Pressed against the door and him, Corin's head rolled back as he began a slow, soft assault against her neck. Her skin quivering with his touch, Corin gasped aloud when she felt his teeth nip tenderly at her flesh. Hazily, she was aware of being carried across to the bed, but then there was only the soft mattress under her, Lancelot's safe, assuring weight atop her and his lips, tongue, fingers, drifting idly across her skin.

Hastily, Corin pushed the loose, flimsy shirt Lancelot was wearing over his head, and attached her mouth to his clearly defined muscles. His hands travelled over her, caressing her, stealing her breath and making her whimper against him, heat springing to life in her blood. Arching her back, Corin pressed wantonly against him, needing to be close, needing to touch him, wanting to be consumed by the warmth pooling inside her, the passion behind her eyes. Dizzyingly, she listened to his fervent whispers against her skin.

"Corin, I…"

Corin… 

"…love you so much, Corin…"

Corin… 

"…you're so beautiful…"

This is wrong, Corin, this isn't how it should be… the Lady… 

"Stop, Lancelot," Corin mumbled dejectedly, pushing him gently off of her. "Stop."

The knight, wary of the last time he and Corin had been in his bed, quickly manoeuvred away from her. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head, placing a small kiss on his brow. "Nothing is wrong, my love," she whispered, entwining her hand with his to assure him. "There is just something I need to do. Tomorrow night, when I come back…"

With one last long, intimate, and deep kiss, heavy with promise, Corin drew away and slipped silently out of the room.

* * *

She rode for a good hour in the enveloping darkness before she stopped. Jumping from Callisto's back, she threw her pale hood off and surveyed the clearing around her. The forest was silent and thick with lingering anticipation as it waited for night to fall and Corin felt suffocated by it, her senses frantic and edgy with the sticky air.

Quickly lighting a fire, Corin set the nine candles she had brought with her in a semi-circle, their flames dancing in the shadows. Shedding her sky blue cloak, she kneeled on the ground in her pristinely repaired priestess robes. Her eyes were bright, glimmering with the silver pendant at her neck.

After scavenging in her bag for a moment, Corin tossed moonwise oil, amaranth seeds and crushed myrtle into the flames of her small fire, the scent of the herbs immediately filling the air. She had no alter, no temple, no priestesses for this to be as it should be. She would just have to make do.

Through the clearing, the pale moon reached out and embraced Corin; it's soft light washing over her golden skin. In a slow, trembling murmur, Corin began to chant, her voice echoing eerily through the glade.

There was a loud caw from a crow somewhere in the night, and the woodland came to life.

Corin began to feel a pulsing beat vibrating in her blood, and her senses dulled then heightened in an acute sharpness.

"_Thou huntress of the night_

_Divine Protectoress_

_Lady of the Wild,_

_I answer thee._

_For I have seen thee beneath the cool dark night_

_And answer thee._

_Silvery Huntress of the Night,_

_I am your child..._"

Taking a deep breath, pausing in her chanting only momentarily, Corin added the first sacrifice to the flames; a pure white ermine shot through its heart. Next came a beautiful china doll with a sweet ivory face and azure eyes, not unlike her own. Following this, a lock of brilliant gold hair, tied with a white silk ribbon, was tossed into the fire.

"_Pale Lady of the Moon,_

_I sing thy praises._

_From thy woodlands great_

_I call unto thee_

_In the dark of night._

_Thy hands have fed me,_

_And I am full._"

Then, came a white rose, breathtaking in its beauty, and Corin was loath to sully its perfection in the hot blaze. But, her purpose overruled her desire and with a small wrist-flick, the rose's velure petals were being caressed by the flickering flames.

But the next sacrifice would be the hardest, Corin knew. With shaking hands she unfastened the thin leather rope around her neck and removed the moonstone pendant. A pearly tear escaping from the corner of her eye, she kissed the silver amulet and dropped it into the fire.

"_Huntress of the Gods,_

_Protector of the Young,_

_Let thy light flood me with wisdom_

_And thy presence fill me._

_I answer thee_

_In the early morn._

_Thy song has comforted me_

_And I am strong._"

One more to go. Corin's hand fell upon the smooth, soft surface of the last sacrifice to Artemis.

A pomegranate.

Bringing it to her mouth, Corin bit into the fruit, the sweet nectar making a trail down her chin before it too was thrown into the flames.

Taking a small dagger from the suede bag, Corin held her left hand over the fire and cut into her palm. She gave a sharp gasp of pain as the blade cut into her skin, but persisted until there was a shallow slash across her hand. Dropping the knife into the flames, she drew her hand into a fist and watched as her dark red blood, the nectar of life, dripped into the fire.

"_Great Goddess of Moon and Magic_

_Mistress of wolf and deer_

_You have taught me thy mysteries_

_And led me in thy ways_

_And I have answered thee._

_I am no longer a creature of the wild._

_I leave thy great domain._

_And I am free."_

* * *

He was waiting for her. The moon was rising, but he could not see it. She was cloaked in a veil of shadow.

His hands rested idly in his lap as his liquid black eyes searched the room for any trace, any warning, as if it could give him some heed as to where she was.

But then the door opened.

She stood there in the doorway, her golden hair a mantle on her shoulders. She was pristine in her robes, but Lancelot could see that in some places soot had marred the soft, wrinkled cotton.

Gracefully, almost hesitantly, she walked over to him and stood by the bed where he was seated.

"I'm ready," was all she said, murmured in a muted whisper.

His hands went to her waist and he pulled her close, burying his face in her stomach and inhaling the intoxicating, sweet scent that was just _her_.

"Are you sure?" he asked with uncertainty, gazing back up at her face.

She said nothing, but tucked an errant curl behind his ear. Brushing her own hair off her shoulders, she slowly pushed her robes from her and they fell to the floor in a heap. Gently, she eased herself onto him and placed a stray kiss at the corner of his eye. Undoing the strings of his shirt, she smoothly pulled it off him, and he sucked in a breath at the feel of her skin against his.

Like light with no shadows she surrounded him, and, for a night, he forgot all about the moon.

**A/N:** Ta da! Hope you liked this one. Bits of the chant/poem thing to Artemis are taken from 'Invocation to Artemis' by Andrea E. Feeser. I just appropriated it and added bits in. Anywho, please review and tell me what your are thinking about this chapter. It's so much fun writing all the smutty bits. Hehehehe. I'm such a pervert. Lol. Ouch. Laughing hurts Katie's stomach. Spent waaaaay to much time at the gym last night. Alas, it had to be done, as I must look skinny for bridesmaid chores tomorrow!

Happy Easter everybody! Instead of sending me and egg, send me a review!

Kate.


	12. Sunset's Fire

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. 

**A/N:**Thank you all for the lovely reviews, you are wonderful!

**_Tracy137:_** You're about to find out. Oohh, I love your fic. Thank you for reading this! Hope you enjoy the chapter.

**_Exile of Numenor:_** I know what you mean. I am agreeing. The real ceremony took almost a whole day, I think. I've reread it a couple of times since I read your review and wish I could go back and redo it. I hope you like this chapter.

**_KAfan:_** Lol, it ain't over yet. No way. As your about to see. Hope you like all the drama. Hehe.

**_Dw:_** Thank you for the review! Hope you like this chapter.

**_LANCELOTTRISTANBABY:_** God I know. I wish I could have a Lancelot to have my way with whenever I felt like that. Heh, that gives me an idea for a fic… Hope you enjoy this chapter.

**_Sheiado:_** Lol, knocked the boots. I like that. Entertaining? It was _supposed _to be mushy and romantic. But if you were entertained… Lol, I am a pervert, but hey, you read it. Lol. Argh! What's happened to your fics! I was so into Immoratl Knight, and Templar was getting really good too! Update, woman! Here's another chapter for you. Hope you like it. And go easy on the caffeine, mate.

**_Andromahke:_** Thank you! You make me blush. And it's about to get a whole lot more complicated. I'm glad your appreciating the symbolism. Heh, I just finished writing a chapter for the future, it is positively loaded with symbolism. Hope you enjoy this one though.

**_Evenstar-mor2004:_** A very good question. Lol, I didn't even think about that. Oh well. Most of these fics are loaded with historical inaccuracies. I guess that shouldn't be my excuse though. Thanks for pointing that out. And thank you for the review! Hope you enjoy this one.

**_JDEPlova:_** I'm glad you're enjoying it! Hope you enjoy this chapter too.

**_The green lama:_** Lol. Don't be too blunt, hehe. I'm glad you enjoyed the Artemis stuff. Billie Joel, huh? Have to say I've never really heard much of his stuff. Lol, thirty chapters? At the moment it's looking like 16 will be it. Sorry! Hopefully it lives up to your expectations. I hate getting to this part of a fic, you feel like you have to live up to so much cos so many people are watching. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**_Meraculas:_** Lol, I'm glad you have popcorn because there certainly are a lot. Glad you've liked CM so far! Thanks for the review. Hope you like this one.

**_Scarlett:_** Thank you for reading and taking the time to review! I really appreciate it. Hope you enjoy this one.

**_Sarah:_** Thank you for reading and reviewing! A history buff, hey? There's so much to know! It's suffocating sometimes, just how much there is to learn. I only wish I had that funky superpower superman has, you know how he reads really quickly? That would be so cool. Thanks again, hope you like this chapter!

**Summary:** Years after the battle on Badon Hill, Lancelot has resigned himself to a loveless life, ever watching from the sidelines. But his hope is slowly restored when he meets a young woman, who fills his world with light, like the rising of the moon.

Crescent Moon

By katemary77

Chapter Twelve: Sunset's Fire

_The young moon has fed  
Her exhausted horn  
With the sunset's fire._  
Percy Bysshe Shelley

Corin awoke in the warm circle of Lancelot's arms. Pressing her eyes tight together, she stretched her body like a cat, bones creaking and groaning with the movement. Exhaling loudly, she opened her cornflower eyes to find Lancelot watching her, an amused expression on his face.

"Pleasantly numb?"

Her face contorted in confusion for a moment, but then she recalled a night long ago when Lancelot has escorted a drunken priestess back to her room.

She gave a quick grin. "Absolute bliss?"

He laughed and gave her a fleeting nip on the nose. "Naturally." Shifting, Lancelot slid his mouth across Corin's and gave her an easy, slow kiss. "I love you," he told her, pausing to utter the words.

"And I you," she smiled, before wrapping a loose sheet around her body and clambering out of the bed. "I should be off; Tristan will be waiting for me to bind his hands," she explained.

Lancelot nodded and kept his eyes trained on her movements, how she washed her face in the small basin in his room, how she struggled to flatten her tangled hair, and soon, how she stood bashfully before him.

"Er… Lancelot?"

"Huh?" he mumbled, snapped out of his trance.

"I need something to wear," she clarified, biting her curved lip.

Lancelot's brow furrowed. "But your robes are just there," he said, pointing out the delicate white pile by the bed. "Can't you wear them?"

Corin shook her head. "No, not anymore. They're my priestess robes, and I am no longer a priestess."

"Oh." Lancelot thought for a second, then jumped out of the bed, seemingly unaware of his nakedness. Rifling through his drawer, the knight soon triumphantly pulled out an old shirt and trousers. "Have these for as long as you want," he told her. "I no longer have use of them."

She smirked, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks. "I beg to differ, Sir Knight, I believe some clothes would suit you nicely right about now."

Lancelot looked down, realised he was unclothed, and then grinned up at Corin lecherously. "Oh, do you not enjoy the look of my naked body, Corin?" he asked, prowling towards her.

She laughed brightly and held a hand up to cover her eyes, the other clutching the sheet closed at her front. "Put some clothes on, you debauched libertine!" Still giggling, she peeked through her fingers. "Though I must say, you've the body of a God."

He smiled. "Except for all the scars."

Frowning gently, Corin moved toward him and, with the sheet still clutched in her hands, tossed her arms about his neck, effectively covering them both in the light material.

"I think they give you character," she said softly, her eyes glimmering at his. "Every scar has a story; you have many."

"As do you," Lancelot replied, running a calloused finger along the harsh scar that marred her hip.

She nodded and then pulled away from the embrace, quickly pulling on her borrowed clothes. "I must go. But I shall see you later on, yes?"

Lancelot smiled and pulled Corin in to a deep, yearning kiss. "Yes."

"Then I'll see you later," she smiled, and then was gone.

* * *

Whistling a happy tune, Corin meandered down the hall with Tristan at her side, her eyes bright and gleaming.

"You're in an awfully good mood today," Tristan observed, glancing at her from under his many scattered braids. "This wouldn't have anything to do with you arriving at your room today in Lancelot's old clothes, would it?"

Corin grimaced. She had requested that Tristan wait to go to breakfast until she was dressed, so there was no doubt in her mind that he had not noticed her previous outfit.

"Perhaps," she said offhandedly, gazing down at her royal blue dress. "But let us not speak of that." She linked arms with the silent knight. "What do you think will be served for breakfast today? Honey cakes? Fruit? Eggs? I think I feel like bacon with…"

The Greek trailed off as she noticed the sole occupants of the dining room. Lancelot was kneeling by the Queen's chair, his hand resting on her swelled belly as the Queen beamed down at him.

"Can you feel him?" Corin heard the Queen ask Lancelot softly, referring to the growing baby inside her. "I just know it is a boy."

Her eyes travelled up to her lovers face on which was an unreadable expression, to all but Corin.

It felt as if her heart was cracking into a thousand tiny pieces.

Lancelot's face displayed emotions she had never seen before, unreadable to the well-trained eye. Devotion, worship, adoration, and whole, complete, unquestionable, undeniable love.

Lancelot was looking at the Queen the way he had never looked at Corin.

She felt a tremble shake her body, and looked up to Tristan who was standing the silent sentential beside her, an odd look of something akin to regret upon his face.

With one last look at Lancelot and Guinevere, and image that would be burned into her mind forever, Corin turned and fled.

He still loved her.

* * *

He still loved her.

Lancelot could feel it in his bones, shaking him down to the core.

He still loved the Queen.

"Can you feel that Lancelot?" she asked in her strong, ethereal voice.

Yes, he could. He could feel the soft, almost indistinguishable beat of a heart.

Her child.

Arthur's child.

He could also feel a set of dark, angry eyes watching him.

Looking up, his own dark eyes fell upon Tristan, who was gazing at him with such unadulterated fury that he actually felt a tingle of fear travel down his spine.

But then it clicked.

"I should be off; Tristan will be waiting for me to bind his hands…" 

Corin.

Startling the Queen, Lancelot jumped up and flew to the door.

"Where is she?" he demanded of Tristan, who stood still as a statue in the doorway. "Where did she go?"

Tristan did not blink, his eyes remaining where Lancelot had knelt on the floor. "I know not."

"Then I must find her," the knight said frantically, motioning to go through the doorway.

The scout didn't move.

"Get out of my way, Tristan," Lancelot spoke harshly.

He stayed, his face cold and impassive.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Way," the knight breathed lowly.

"What are you going to do, Lancelot?" Tristan spoke, his indecipherable eyes finally flickering to Lancelot's face. "Kill me?"

"Please, Tristan, just move!" the knight pleaded, trying a different tactic.

Nodding shortly, silently, Tristan stepped away from the door. "Go. Go and explain to Corin why you are such a fool."

* * *

She was nowhere.

Lancelot had been searching all day, and now the sun was far in the West, preparing to sink beneath the far hills.

Walking dejectedly past the throne room, Lancelot decided to try the battlements one last time.

He found her silhouetted against the setting sun, her long figure casting shadows across the stone.

"Where were you?" he demanded. "I was looking for you."

"I went to the fields," she answered quietly, her eyes never turning to his.

Lancelot shook his head. "No you didn't. I checked the stables three times, Callisto never left."

She laughed softly, under her breath. "I didn't take Callisto."

"Why not?" he asked sharply.

Her eyes flicked to his, but only for a moment. "Because I knew you to be looking for me. And I did not want to be found."

Lancelot sighed angrily. "Listen, about this morning, nothing happened, okay? I promise you – "

"I know nothing happened, Lancelot," she cut in, still speaking only so he could just hear her. "But why should that matter? You lied to me," she breathed. "You are still in love with her."

"No!" he began, taking a step closer to the woman before him. "No, Corin, I love you – "

"Do not deny it, Lancelot," she spat turning fully to look at him. "It is worthless. Do not lie to me again. You are still in love with her."

"You don't understand," he hissed already feeling the pent up rage that had resided inside him for so long boil in anger. "You have no idea what it has been like for me, these past years, it has been _torture_."

She shook her head. "This isn't about _you _Lancelot, this is about _us_! I am in love with you, and I am yours. But I will not be second best. I will not be the person you _settle_ for. I am worth more than that."

"But I am not in love with her!" he shouted angrily. "You are not the person who I am settling for, _I love you_!"

"STOP LYING TO ME!" Corin cried, her eyes wet with tears. "Just – don't – "

"What do you want me to say, Corin?" the knight interrupted sharply. "Do you want the truth?"

Her face calmed. "Yes, Lancelot, the truth," she said, numbly, flatly.

"Fine," he began harshly. "Yes, I am in love with her, captivated by her. The way she moves, the way she speaks, the way she looks. I am in love with her," he spat. "But I am in love with you, too!"

"You cannot have us both, Lancelot," she sighed wearily, luminescent tears trailing down her cheeks.

"You're right!" he cried. "I can't have you both, I can only have _you_!"

Corin reeled back as if she had been struck.

"Wait, I didn't mean that – "

"I think I should leave."

The words, uttered softly, echoed in Lancelot's mind, driving deep to his core.

"What?"

Corin shook her head, her hand moving to capture a tear as it rolled down her cheek. "I think I should leave," she repeated, not quite meeting his eyes.

"And go where?" he breathed. "Back to Greece? You can't, you would be killed…"

"I know that," she replied snappishly. "Faustus. He is a kind man, I will go to him."

Lancelot trembled at the tone of her voice and stepped forward, grasping her shoulders roughly in his hands. "You cannot leave me," he said thickly, forcing her to look into his eyes. "You _cannot_."

Corin blinked and struggled to get away from his tight grip, but he would not yield. She struggled further, a pained, panicked look flickering in her eyes, but he would not let go.

"You cannot leave me!" he repeated, knowing in his mind that he must be bruising her, _hurting _her, but he could not let go.

It was not until she whimpered quietly, her face twisted in panic, that he released her, stepping back in shame and fright.

Her fingers skimming over the dark red marks he had left on her skin, Corin sent him one last startled, frightened look and whipped around, striding of the battlements and into the deepening dusk.

* * *

"_Leaving?_"

Corin surveyed the shocked, upset faces of the King and Queen and wondered, not for the first time, if she was doing the right thing.

"Only for a little while," she replied, squashing that thought down. "You understand, don't you?"

Arthur nodded gravely and consulted the parchment before him. "If you really want this, Corin, if you really want to leave, then you are free to go. A caravan is leaving early tomorrow morning, it will pass Birdoswald. You may go with them."

Corin nodded and wiped a salty tear from her cheek. Stepping forward, she knelt on the dais and took both Arthur's and Guinevere's hands in her own. "I want you to know how grateful I am of what you have given me. You have freely offered me a new life, something I could have never hoped for after the temple fell. Your Majesties… Arthur, Guinevere, I cannot express how thankful I am."

The King smiled bittersweetly at her and helped her rise. "You have never needed to thank us, Corin, and that still stands."

Smiling through her tears, Corin placed her hand over Guinevere's belly. "I'll be back for him," she assured the Queen. "I promise you I will be back for him."

Turning, she descended the steps and made a slow, heavy track across the room. As she neared the door and moved to push it open, Corin heard a sudden flurry of movement and turned just in time to catch the Queen as she hurtled towards her.

"I will miss you terribly," the Woad whispered, embracing her friend tightly. "And whatever it is you are looking for, I hope you find it."

* * *

She moved slowly but fluidly, attaching a few bags of her belongings to Callisto's saddle. Irritably, she brushed a stray lock of hair away from her fair, and in doing so noticed the uncontrollable shaking of her hands. Growling, Corin clasped the offending appendages together in an attempt to calm her nerves. She was jittery, prickly, starting at the smallest noise.

"You're really leaving."

Lancelot stood in the middle of the stables, his face contorted in an odd mixture of sorrow and scepticism.

Corin nodded. It was true. She had already said her brief goodbyes to Vanora and the other knights, leaving them short but bittersweet.

"I thought – I thought you – "

"I do," she interrupted smoothly, quietly, not needing volume to slice through Lancelot's cracked speech. "I'm just not sure that you do."

"Don't leave," he whispered, as if his very soul would shatter if she moved away. "Please don't leave me."

Corin let out a broken moan. "I have to! Please don't do this, don't make it harder than it already is."

But then she noticed something that tilted her world upside down, if only for a moment.

Lancelot was crying.

With dulled, dismal movements, he walked over to her and sunk to his knees, burying his face in her stomach. His arms wrapped around her waist and held her in a tight lock as he wept into her dress.

"Please don't leave me," he gasped. "I love you – I promise I love you… don't leave, don't leave."

Corin attempted to break free from his death grip, but he was too strong.

"Let me go."

"No," Lancelot murmured stubbornly, his voice muffled through the folds of her dress.

"Lancelot," she whispered, "please let me go, I need to go. Please?"

He loosened his hold somewhat, and looked up at her.

Corin bit back a gasp at his face; she had never seen a man more broken.

"Tell me what to do and I'll do it. Anything, Corin, to make you stay."

She bit her lip, willing the words not to spill forth. "Tell me you love me. Look me in the eyes, Lancelot, and tell me that you love me. Tell me that I am the only woman you love."

He looked away.

A sob tore from Corin's throat that ripped Lancelot's heart in two.

Gently easing herself from his slackened grip, Corin took Callisto's reigns and quietly left the stables.

She didn't look back.

**A/N:** Sob sob. Not too dramatic, I hope. Please don't hate me.

More bad news. This fic is drawing to a close. I just wrote the draft for the last chapter. That's so scary. I'm going to try something new. Following are a list of questions I'd love to have your ideas on, a kind of research for the stories I have running rampant in my head. You don't have to answer them if you don't want to, or you can answer some or all. But I thought they'd probably be advantageous to any writer who wants to use the feedback, which I will happily send to you via email. So anyway, here they are. Be honest.

Was this fic too fast-paced/ too slow-paced?

Was there too much action/to little action?

The length of the chapters (usually around 10 pages) – too long? Too short?

How quickly I was updating – too slow? Too quick?

Corin – was she too perfect? Did she need to be more flawed?

My mild smut – should I never do that again? Heehee.

Too romantic and mushy? Not enough?

The quotes/poems at the beginning. Did you like that? Was it just stupid?

What was the worst thing about it?

The best?

I'll think of more of these.

For my next fic, I presently have two ideas, both of which I will eventually write. But I'm having problems choosing the one I should do first. I'm not even leaning towards one. What do you think?

Possibly my take on Tristan/Isolde. But different. Ultimately just a Tristan/OC fic with aspects of Tristan/Isolde in it.

A fic not unlike Crescent about a girl from a different culture. Tristan/OC.

What do you think?

Feedback appreciated.


	13. When Love is Done

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. 

**A/N: **Soon, I know, but I thought I owed you guys a treat after all those beautiful, wonderful reviews. I am positively overwhelmed by the number of reviews CM has been getting. Do you think we could make it to 200? Ooohh, I dunno, it's possible. Thank you everyone for that wonderful feedback to those questions, they've helped so much in me thinking about the next project I'll do. So thank you everyone! Hope you all enjoy this chapter. And sorry about making some of you cry in the last one! Even though that's what I was hoping for…

**Summary:** Years after the battle on Badon Hill, Lancelot has resigned himself to a loveless life, ever watching from the sidelines. But his hope is slowly restored when he meets a young woman, who fills his world with light, like the rising of the moon.

Crescent Moon

By katemary77

Chapter Thirteen: When Love is Done

_The night has a thousand eyes,  
And the day but one;  
Yet the light of the bright world dies  
With the dying sun._

_The mind has a thousand eyes,  
And the heart but one;  
Yet the light of a whole life dies  
When love is done._

Francis William Bourdillon, _The Night Has a Thousand Eyes_

It had been dark when Corin arrived at Birdoswald. She hardly remembered calling out to the guards, Faustus rushing out to meet her. The Roman lord had kindly led her into the warm fort, where she was given warm broth and bread.

"Why have you returned, Lady Corin?" Faustus had questioned gently as she absentmindedly picked at her food. "Why have you left Camelot? I had thought that you would never return."

She didn't answer, only gazed blankly into the Roman's eyes.

He had nodded, understanding that this was something Corin would not share. "You can stay as long as you wish," he told her, his hand warm on her shoulder. "You will be no burden to us."

Now, Corin was lying awake in her cot, bundled in numerous blankets and shawls. Winter had come, and the rain was beating a steady rhythm against her window. She wondered vaguely if it was raining at Camelot, then cursed herself for allowing her mind to wander where she had not allowed it to the journey there.

_Don't think about that! _an inner voice screamed. _Don't think about them at all!_

But Corin couldn't help it. Couldn't help thinking about Guinevere, Lancelot, the knights, Arthur.

All that she had left behind.

All that she _couldn't _leave behind.

_It's only for a little while,_ she assured herself. _He will come for me_.

But then, like poison, a tiny grain of doubt weeded itself into her mind.

_What if he doesn't? What if he forgets about me? _

A sharp, unexpected pain ripped through her body, and Corin gasped aloud at the ache.

What had she done?

* * *

"You, gel, what your name be?"

Corin turned at the rough, crackly voice that had addressed her. "I am Corin," she told the old, wrinkled woman who was sitting by the road, her gnarled hands steadily shelling peas.

"You not be from 'round here, eh?" the old woman questioned. "Can't hide much with that hair of yours."

Corin smiled, strolled to where the woman was sitting and eased herself down beside her. "No, I am from Camelot, and before that, Greece."

"Aye, now I remember you," the woman said. "You be the Grecian maid the King swept off to Camelot, months ago."

Corin nodded. "Yes, that was I."

"So what are you doing back here?" she demanded.

"Needed to get away from… something," Corin shrugged.

The old woman nodded wisely, her eyes sparkling with secrets. "I be May." She jolted her head backwards abruptly, indicating the tavern behind them. "I run the inn."

Corin nodded. "I know. I've been here for a while now. Seen you in there at night, bossing the men around."

May chuckled. "And that's the way it should be. How long you been here for?"

"A couple of weeks," the Greek answered.

May's brow furrowed, making her appear even older. "Then how come I ain't seen you round?"

"I didn't much leave the fort."

"Well, we can't have that!" May frowned. "Pretty lass like you not getting out and about. I'll tell you what," she said with a conspiratorial wink, "you help me shell these peas and I'll give you drinks on the house. What do you say, aye?"

Corin smiled, her first in weeks, and held up a peapod for close inspection. "You're on."

* * *

She sat and idly twirled the remains of a strongly spiced red wine around in her goblet. The raucous sounds of the tavern seemed faded, drowned out in her ears. She was used to this now. Corin had been at Birdoswald for two months.

And he had not come.

She spent her days buried beneath books in the fort's small library, or wandering the town aimlessly, wrapped in her pale blue cloak. The people of Birdoswald were used to her now. Used to her lingering presence in their town throughout the day, used to her lazy eyes surveying the empty backdrop of the Roman fort. Every night she spent in the tavern, lost in her own thoughts, occasionally conversing with May. Sometimes, Faustus came with her. He joined her in the library, and they poured over books on art, philosophy, science. Other times he walked with her through the city, not speaking, just a quiet presence to bring her back down to earth. And other times he came and sat with her at May's tavern, studying her as she studied her drink.

This was one of those nights. The Roman lord sat beside Corin, his long brown hands wrapped around a tankard of mead. Faustus's caramel brown eyes washed over the girl next to him, her silken hair, her empty eyes.

There was a rowdy cheer behind them, and the Lord turned to see a recently arrived group of mercenaries enter the tavern, shaking off their wet cloaks and jackets. Faustus didn't fail to notice the way the leaders black beady eyes landed upon Corin's frame. He sauntered over to the bar and ordered mead for the table in a gruff, deep voice. Faustus looked on with a sense of unease as the mercenary clapped a meaty hand on Corin's shoulder.

The girl barely flinched.

"Now, what's a pretty girl like you doing here all alone, eh? How but you come join me and me lads, eh?"

Corin turned slowly. "Thank you for the offer, Sir, but I am content to stay here." Firmly, she peeled the hand from her body.

The man's face turned into a snarl. "I asked you to come and sit with me lads and I, wench."

Corin closed her eyes for a moment and prepared to reply when a smooth, deep voice cut in.

"I believe the Lady asked you to leave," Faustus said pointedly, glaring at the man. "Now leave."

"And who're you?" the mercenary grunted. "Who're you to tell me what to do, eh?"

Faustus straightened in his chair. "I am Lord of this city," he told the man, "so if you want to stay in it I suggest you leave this lady alone and go back to your men."

The mercenary grunted again and turned, stalking back to his group.

"Are you alright, Lady Corin?" Faustus asked gently, covering her cold hand with his.

She nodded, releasing a shaky breath. "Yes. Thank you, my lord. I think…"

"Lord Faustus!" The captain of the guard came into the tavern, a few of his men trailing behind. "Come, join us for a drink!"

The Roman nodded, then turned to Corin. "What were you saying?"

She shook her head. "Nothing, my lord."

He smiled warmly. "I'll only be a moment."

Corin nodded and watched him leave absently. Standing, she bid her goodbye to May. She had to get out, get away from the noise and the people, and the stench of booze. She was walking out of the tavern when the same, meaty hand grabbed a hold of her waist.

"Now, lassie, I knew you'd come 'round."

She tensed, remembering the last person to touch her there. A rough, dark, callused hand.

Snarling, Corin ripped the man's hand from her waist. "I told you not to _touch_ me, filth," she spat at him, before turning and fleeing from the inn.

She was half way down the road, the rain beating upon her face, when the mercenary caught up. His hands were on her shoulders now. She froze, not daring to breath. The mercenary's hands travelled down her arms and land on her hips. Taking a small step forward, he leaned in, and his breath wafted under Corin's nose. Still, she remained frozen. He smelt like stale mead and foul body odour. Lancelot smelt like cinnamon and fire.

She was soaked, her dress clinging tightly to her skin, her hair in a ratted mat upon her back.

Corin teared herself away from the man and sprinted down another dirt road, praying that this lead somewhere near the fort. The knowledge from wandering these streets came to her too late.

It was a dead end.

Corin turned to face the man, raising her fists as if to fight him. But everything Lancelot had taught her fled her mind. She struggled to remember something, _anything_, but all she drew was a blank.

Like lightening, his huge hand wrapped around Corin's throat and he slammed her into the rough brick behind. Corin gagged at the motion and coughed hard. She tried to pry his hands away from her neck and kicked at him, but the man would not release her. Tears streamed down Corin's face as she looked at the man who would murder her. She would die alone in a foreign country with no friends, no family to mourn her.

The mercenary gripped harder and Corin struggled to breathe. The harder she fought him the tighter he gripped her throat. She began to feel light-headed and she began to give up all hope. It was over.

_Not like this…_

_Fight! _

The man tilted his head and leered at her, baring sharp, blackened teeth.

_Not like this…_

Her heart bursting, Corin let out a strangled cry and lashed out with her hands, her nails clawing down the man's face.

"Bitch!" he roared, his hands grasping at his marred cheek as Corin slid down the wall, her fingers touching the bruised flesh at her throat, her tears mingling with the heavy rain pouring down on her.

She struggled to stand but her legs would not work, and she slipped on the wet ground that was soon turning to mud. Something slammed into her back so hard that the girl fell forward onto her hands and knees, breathless. The blow rattled her spine, her stomach, her insides…

Corin coughed, trying to get air back into her lungs, but her body, in a confused state of panic, objected. A metallic, slippery taste filled her mouth. In a nauseated lurch, Corin spat a mouthful of blood into the mud.

Weakly, she stood, her hands clambering at the wall, and faced the man before her. Before she could properly recover, he sent a punch to her gut that made her stumble, falling into the thick muck that the rain was beating up.

He clambered over her and breathed foully across her face. Grasping a handful of her tangled hair, the mercenary ruthlessly tilted her head back and slobbered onto her neck.

_This is it. _

It was over.

Corin gazed up blankly at the moonless night, the silvery orb covered by the clouds, as the man ripped apart the bodice of her dress.

_Lady… help me…_

There was no Lancelot there to save her this time.

She was alone.

Utterly alone.

She would never see the sun again.

_Lancelot…_

She would never see Lancelot again.

_Lancelot… _

_NOT LIKE THIS! _her mind screamed.

_NOT LIKE THIS! _

Blinking, Corin brought her knee to collide harshly with the man's groin. He reeled back, and Corin hurried to cover herself and scurry away. She felt around for something, anything to help her, and her hand fell upon a plank of heavy, rotting wood. Grasping it tightly, she rose shakily onto her knees and swung the wood mightily with all her strength, bringing it sharply against the man's skull.

The was a blunt clunking noise, a grunt, and then silence, the only noise the rain drumming upon the earth.

Covering her bare breast, Corin curled herself into a ball, swallowing a sob and tightly closing her eyes. Dimly, she became aware of feet pounding against the ground, a man urgently calling out her name.

"Here," she choked out weakly, her throat aching from the man's strong hands that had wrapped around it.

Faustus appeared before her. His eyes widened and he cursed under his breath, before whipping his cloak off and wrapping it firmly around the shaking girl.

"Can you walk?"

"_Where are you hurt? Can you walk? It's okay, I won't hurt you," the handsome, curly haired knight asked her, smiling warmly, warily at her, as if she might break and shatter into a thousand tiny pieces at any moment. _

"Yes," she told Faustus, burying her memories deep inside her.

"_You don't have to carry me, you know," she told him. She could walk. She wasn't weak._

_The man named Lancelot shot her a rakish, disarming grin, just like Branor, her sweet, kind friend had once said he would. "But it makes me feel so chivalrous. Like a knight in shining armour. Let us embrace the cliché for a moment."_

_She let her head fall back against his chest. _

"_If you must."_

The Roman lord wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders and, together, they made their way up into the fortress.

"_It's okay, I won't hurt you, I promise."_

"_Don't leave… Please don't leave me! I love you… I promise…"_

"_I think I might be falling in love with you." _

_Warm hands caressed her skin, awaking feelings she never knew she had. His touch on her skin was like fire, his lips on hers like silk, he was completely flooding her senses. _

Corin lay numbly in the bed. Faustus was tending her wounds. His long, elegant fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from her face.

"He didn't… did he?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Good." He stood. "Corin, you need to get some rest."

She nodded. "Okay."

"I will come and check on you in the morning."

Before leaving, Faustus bent and pressed a gentle kiss to Corin's forehead. "Sleep well."

Once he had left, Corin clambered out from under the sheets and dug through the small dresser in her room. She pulled out an old shirt and pair of trousers, many sizes to large for her frame.

Dressed in the clothes Lancelot had given her, Corin slid back into bed and shut her eyes.

But she would lay awake for a long time that night.

**A/N: **Thanks for reading, guys. Drop a review if you want. Hope you liked it! Have a good weekend everybody.


	14. Glory of the Morn

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. 

**_A/N:_** As usual, thank you so much for the lovely reviews.

**_IMPORTANT NOTE!_** I updated this story on Friday, (April Fools Day.) At the time and over the weekend, fan fiction was down and as such I didn't receive any email alerts for the stories I follow, so it may be possible that you didn't get one for CM. So you might want to check you have read Chapter Thirteen.

**Summary:** Years after the battle on Badon Hill, Lancelot has resigned himself to a loveless life, ever watching from the sidelines. But his hope is slowly restored when he meets a young woman, who fills his world with light, like the rising of the moon.

Crescent Moon

By katemary77

Chapter Fourteen: Glory of the Morn

"_Dreams are not – in the glory of the morn,  
Seen through the gates of ivory and horn –  
More fair than these."_

_"The White Women," by Mary Coleridge_

"A hunt, Lady Corin?"

The girl looked up from the old, worn book she had been reading and smiled brightly.

"Why, Lord Faustus, that sounds like a lovely idea. Shall your sisters be joining us?"

He shook his head. "Nay, though Amandus and Varius will be."

"Okay," she replied. "Just let me change into riding gear and I shall meet you down at the stables."

Faustus nodded firmly. "Of course. Callisto is already saddled and waiting."

Corin's eyes sparkled, her grin widening. "Oh? You certainly were confident I would be joining you."

The Roman shrugged. "It does not take much to unsaddle a horse."

Her smile fell somewhat, and Corin chided herself for being silly. "Well, my lord, I will meet you at the stables."

Minutes later, Corin appeared at the entrance to the stables where Faustus, Amandus and Varius, the two Captains of Birdoswald fort, were waiting.

"Corin, it is lovely to see you, as always. What a sight for sore eyes," Varius crooned. He was tall with dark blonde hair and a clean-shaven face. His boyish, friendly nature reminded Corin much of Galahad and Gawain, especially when he flirted and joked with her.

His companion, Amandus, was much older. His hair was black with streaks of grey and his eyes dark and serious. But the Captain was soft at heart and had taken Corin under his wing at her arrival. "Lady Corin," he said now, shooting an uncommitted glare at his comrade. "We are all anxious to see your skills in the woodlands with a bow and arrow. Aaron has told us you are remarkably talented."

Corin grinned. She had gone hunting with the young man weeks ago and had startled the boy speechless. "Oh, I'm not that good. Aaron is probably exaggerating my skill."

Varius shook his head. "If there is one thing I know about my little brother it is that he does not exaggerate. Ever. Even about the beauty of his women." He smirked and ruffled Corin's hair before helping her up onto her mare's back. "If Aaron said you are good, you are good."

She smiled as they began to ride out of the fortress and into the forest that stretched on for miles around the lake, home to deer, pheasant and hare. As they entered, the thick canopy immediately silenced the sound of the wind from outside.

They took two hunting hounds with them, sleek, ferocious looking creatures who were really quite docile. Now, the two hounds bounded ahead, sniffing for any pray along the path.

The four hunters split up, Faustus and Corin taking one path, Amandus and Varius another. Corin directed her mare to walk carefully; watchful of any protruding roots or turns in the path. Her blue eyes scanned the trees mercilessly for any movement, and soon enough a slight shift up ahead was brought to her attention. She silently signalled to Faustus, and the pair approached what appeared to be a small running stream, over which a tall, proud deer was standing. The stag was crowned by a pair of majestic antlers, but what drew Corin's eye to the creature was its colour.

It was pure white.

Concurrently to the appearance of the creature, Corin heard the unmistakeable growl of a hunting hound, and before the animal could startle the buck, she brought a silver hunting horn hanging at her hip to her lips and blew.

The forest came alive with noise as the stag whipped around and faced the Greek with wide, stunned eyes, before turning and hurtling into the trees. With a cry, Corin urged Callisto into a gallop, pulling out her bow.

The chase was on.

She flew along after the deer and the sound of hooves beating up behind her alerted Corin to the fact Faustus and the others were in hot pursuit, firing arrows along the way. The bright white coat of the deer flashed in and out of sight as the creature darted in and out of the trees, the sound of fierce barking driving it on.

Squeezing tightly with her thighs, Corin reached back and drew an arrow from her quiver. Seeing that the deer running in a relatively straight angle to her, unobstructed by trees, she slowed down and allowed the others to pass her, Faustus pausing momentarily in his rapid shooting to give her a curious look.

Stringing her arrow, Corin aimed and let loose, watching with satisfaction as the arrow sailed in a perfect arc and lodged itself neatly in the deer's neck. The creature ground to a halt and collapsed onto the floor, twitching for only a second before becoming slack.

"_Yah_," she urged her horse quietly, and soon joined the others approaching the animal.

"Fury, Storm, back!" Faustus commanded sharply of his hounds, and the two dogs retreated sullenly behind their master.

Corin dismounted and rushed to the stag's side, an appalled expression upon her face. The creature's body was punctured with arrowheads, some sticking out at odd angles. Dark red blood spilled from its many wounds tainting its perfect coat.

"Who did this?" she spat, glaring at the three men.

They were silent for a moment, unknowing at how to handle the angered woman.

"Those arrows are not from one quiver only, Corin," Varius finally answered.

"And who taught you to hunt? Antonius?" she demanded.

Faustus gave a reluctant nod. "He was fond of the chase."

"I should have known," she cursed darkly. "We are taught in Greece that wild things should be honoured, harmed only where death is certain, not shot at just to be hindered." She gestured to the arrow that pierced the deer's neck. "Mine is the only arrow that should have been fired." A tear slid reluctantly down her cheek at the sight of a noble creature of the wood marred in such a way. Carefully, she removed all but her own arrow from its body. "We will sacrifice him to the God's, so he can return once more to the Lady's domain."

"Corin, this isn't Greece," Varius begun. "You cannot just – "

"It is _my _kill," she reminded them fiercely. "You have no right over this creature, it is mine and mine alone. If you wish to idly spoil the animals in this forest, do so, and you will say what is to come of them. But this stag is mine. You will not touch him."

Sorrowfully, Corin moved a shaking hand over the creature's smooth coat. "You will return to _Her_ domain, King of the Wood."

* * *

Corin was sitting in a wide armchair, a goblet of wine clutched in her hand. She was on the terrace of Birdoswald fort, a small balcony area that overlooked the lake. Her eyes were fixed to the scattered stars in the sky, appearing dimmed from the full moon that hung bright in the heavens.

"Lady, I thought I would find you here."

She turned to see Faustus who was leaning gently against the stone parapet, his hands folded behind his back.

She smiled at him. "How many times must I ask you to call me Corin?"

He shrugged, almost morosely. "I will call you by your name when I feel I have gained your respect."

Corin set her drink onto the ground and rose, coming to stand beside the Roman, facing out towards the lake. She brushed the side of his cheek with the back of her fingers. "Faustus, you earned my admiration and respect the day I came to this fort, and you have continued to win it since then. You are worthy man, and I would feel honoured to have you call me by my name."

He nodded graciously. "Corin, then."

The young woman grinned.

"I am sorry about today," he continued, a frown worrying his handsome face. "I did not realise that the Old Ways still meant so much to you. I apologise."

She shook her head and nudged him absently with her shoulder. "There is no need to apologise. I should not have reacted in that way. It just pains me to see all I believe in forsaken from the land."

Tentatively, Faustus reached down and placed a strong arm about her shoulders. She leaned in to his warm embrace.

"Rome used to be steeped in the Gods and Goddesses of Old," she reminisced. "The same Gods that run in my blood once ran in yours."

He sighed wearily. "I know. It makes me wonder how so many can be sure that their own religion is the true way."

"This, coming from a Roman?" Corin teased lightly.

Faustus laughed and playfully squeezed her too him. "You know that we're not _all _that bad," he joked. "In fact, some of us are even _good_!"

"Heavens no!" she exclaimed dramatically. "You _must _jest, surely!"

They laughed for a moment, their chuckles echoing down into the lake before them.

Once she had sobered, Corin slung her arm about Faustus's waist. "I know some Roman's are good," she told him quietly, resting her head against his chest. "Thank you for being one of them."

He didn't answer, simply smiled, and they stood like that long in to the night, each lost in their own thoughts.

* * *

_He awoke in a dream unlike anything he had experienced before. The air of the woodland smelt of a thousand lazy afternoons, and light shone through the canopy like some kind of shimmering sunrise. There were golden trees with sparkling leaves as far as the eye could see. They stretched endlessly towards the heavens, and he imagined that he could hear some sort of ethereal singing softly in the distance. _

_Unable to do anything else, Lancelot walked slowly, warily, through the trees, weaving in and out of their path. The singing seemed to grow clearer as he walked, and soon the knight found himself in a golden clearing._

_Then he forgot how to breathe. _

_She was sleeping on an ornately carved fainting couch, her golden hair spread around her body like a halo, her cherry lips curved in a peaceful smile. _

_Corin. _

_She was dressed oddly, like the goddesses she often described, in a long, pale gold dress made out of a whimsy, slippery material. The material of her dress met at either shoulder in an intricate silver brooch and a thick forest green cord hung snug about her hips. Her feet were bare, and in her hands she loosely held a curved silver hunting horn. _

_He had forgotten how lovely she was. _

_Silently, Lancelot crossed to her side and knelt, his callused fingers tracing a delicate pattern on her cheek. _

"_This is a dream," the knight told himself quietly. "Nothing but a dream." _

_His heart ached in loneliness as Corin heaved a sigh, her chest rising and falling with every breath she took. Unable to resist, Lancelot bent and pressed his lips gently to hers. _

_As if in a fairytale, her eyes fluttered open and settled sweetly on him. "Lancelot," she breathed simply, her voice melodious. She pulled him down to sit on the couch and then pushed him back with her long hands so he was lying. He watched her reverently as she settled herself beside him, tracing her every move with his dark eyes. She kissed him deeply, and he felt her breath trickle down his throat like honey. _

"_This is a dream," he said again as she moved off him, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. _

_She smiled, laughing, and the silvery sound flitted through the trees like some sprite or nymph. _

_Gods how he missed her laugh_

"_Then dream," came her reply. _

_Lancelot sat and put his arms around her, kissing her for all of the times that he hadn't, but should have. He kissed her for the future that he wanted to share with her, for the plans that he had made for them and those that they would make together. _

_She returned the kiss with equal passion, and he was utterly consumed by her and the erratic pounding of his heart. The world spun madly, expanding and contracting around them as Lancelot relearned the curve and touch of her body. _

_After, they lay on the couch together, limbs tangled, listening to the sound of their breathing. A kind of misty twilight had settled over the clearing, and the trees at the edge blinked in and out of clarity, as if fading into cloud. _

_He knew what it meant. _

"_Come back with me, Corin, I love you, I know I do," he whispered fervently as the haze crept up on them. "Come back. Come back to Camelot."_

_And the last thing he heard before the world disappeared around him was Corin's honeyed, soothing voice murmuring, "She will. When she is ready." _

Lancelot moaned as he awoke, knowing that Corin did not lie sleeping in his arms. The warmth of the dream was quickly fading, and Lancelot felt suffocated by the thick, cool air around him. Throwing on his clothes, the knight flew out of the room and quickly made it to the silent, deserted battlements.

Corin had been gone for close to five months, and traders had come and gone between Birdoswald and the King's palace with no word from the Greek priestess. Lancelot missed her terribly; her bright blue eyes, her soft skin, her voice, her taste, her sweet, wild scent.

But most of all he missed her love. How she had made him feel so wanted, so secure, like no one could ever touch him while he was in her arms. Like, with her beside him, he was invincible.

The dream stayed heavy in his mind. It had seemed so real, but the knight knew that that was only wishful thinking. Corin was many leagues away, probably untroubled by thoughts of her dark knight, not residing in some unearthly dreamworld, bathed in golden starlight.

The full moon hung low and pregnant before Lancelot, making her steady path across the scattered skies.

"She is bright tonight," a voice said quietly to Lancelot's left.

"Tristan," the knight said, not turning from the sky. "You should not sneak up on people like that. Some day, you shall be hurt."

The scout didn't acknowledge what his friend had said, instead moved closer and followed Lancelot's eyes with his own. "The moon pulls at more than just the tides, Lancelot," Tristan spoke quietly, noticing what had so captured the other knight's gaze. "But sometimes, we are so busy looking at her, so sorrowful and so joyful at her ebb and flow, that we miss the sunrise."

He stood stoic beside his troubled friend for a moment, and Lancelot understood that he was offering his silent and unwavering support, before turning and walking back into the darkness.

"Thank you, Tristan," Lancelot murmured softly, but he knew the other man had heard.

The moon was low; finished with her descent in the sky, and now a weak yellow light was beginning to trickle over the hills and meadows to the east. A new golden and glorious orb was climbing over the horizon, stunning in its brilliance.

The moon was pale in comparison to this radiant light. Her time was over.

Basking in the warmth of the sun, Lancelot breathed deeply, and turned his back on the moon.

**A/N:** Enough symbolism for you? Shorter than usual, I know, but unfortunately that couldn't be avoided. Review and tell me what you think.


	15. Thy Everlasting Light

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. 

**A/N: **Ah, crap, I'm so sorry for the huge delay in this chapter. **SO SORRY! **It wasn't that I had writers block, or even because my computer broke down, but I had to take an extremely last minute trip to Melbourne. As in, "Can you be ready to catch the plane in two hours?" sort of last minute. So I was tossing up posting the rest of Crescent Moon in the last few minutes before I left, but not only did I not have time, I just didn't want to do it simply because I don't like doing that. Posting an entire story (or end of a story as it might have been) in one sitting. Just not my style. Thank you for all your wonderful reviews and patience. I would give individual review responses but I just want to get this posted already so you can read it! But thank you so much. Your feedback is continuously overwhelming. Can we get to 200 before the end? Might be hard. Hmm.

So without further ado, here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy it.

**Summary:** Years after the battle on Badon Hill, Lancelot has resigned himself to a loveless life, ever watching from the sidelines. But his hope is slowly restored when he meets a young woman, who fills his world with light, like the rising of the moon.

Crescent Moon

By katemary77

Chapter Fifteen: Thy Everlasting Light

_Whence are thy beams, _

_O sun! thy everlasting light? _

_Thou comest forth, in thy awful beauty; _

_the stars hide themselves in the sky; _

_the moon, cold and pale, _

_sinks in the western waves._

_But thou, thyself, movest alone._  
-- James Macpherson _ Ossian--Cathon--Ossian's Address to the Sun_

"Play, Corin! Play!" May urged her, and the patrons of her tavern echoed her calls.

The girl glanced pleadingly at Faustus, but the Lord merely shrugged and raised his goblet to her, signifying he could do nothing.

Faustus and Corin had been sharing a quiet evening when a band of Greek traders and musicians rolled into the pub. Corin had been ecstatic at the new arrivals and had exhausted the travellers, interrogating them for hours about recent news from her home.

Stupidly, she had admitted to knowing how to play the lyre, and immediately the small harp was pushed into her hands, May, Amandus, Varius and the other locals insisting she accompany the other players.

"But I haven't played in so long, May! I hardly remember how to!" she implored.

"Nonsense!" the old woman shouted. "Play!"

Sighing with resignation, Corin tucked the instrument into the crook of her arm, and the group strung up an old, traditional song, usually played at weddings and festivals. After stumbling over the first few notes, Corin's fingers remembered strings, remembered chords, and she was able to pluck prettily throughout the song. At the end notes, Faustus and the others applauded enthusiastically, and before Corin even had time to catch her breath, the musicians began another lively tune and Corin was made to hurry over the first chords before she was in time with the others.

The group played long into the night, until Corin's fingers were sore and red, and her head was about to drop onto Faustus's shoulder.

"Alright, alright," the Roman lord finally laughed. "Our leading lady is about to pass out, perhaps we should retire for the evening?"

This pronouncement was met with jeers from the men, who evidently had not finished their merry-making and did not wish to. Rolling his eyes, Faustus nudged Corin to her feet.

"Goodnight!" Corin called sleepily. "Gentlemen, it was a pleasure playing with you. May the Gods of Olympus watch over you and yours."

Shifting uncomfortably, the Greek travellers nodded to the lady and bid their farewells.

Soon, Corin and Faustus had escaped the noise of the tavern and were out in the cool, fresh night, weaving their way slowly back to the fort.

"Thank you for taking me out tonight," Corin said, smiling up at her friend. "I had a thoroughly enjoyable evening."

"That is good," Faustus remarked. "I've hardly seen you smile the past month."

"Not true!" Corin scoffed. "I think you have taken to over exaggerating, like your friends."

"That is the only untruth in the matter," Faustus laughed. "What has gotten you so down?"

She sighed. "I must arrange to return to Camelot."

Faustus paused, pulling Corin back to stand with him. "Why?"

"The Queen is due in the next moon. I promised I would be there for her birth."

Faustus frowned. "Will you stay here as long as you can, before her time?"

Corin nodded. "Of course."

"And only remain there for whatever time is necessary?"

She smiled at him and linked her arm with his. "Of course, Faustus. I will be back here so quickly you would not even notice I had gone."

He shook his head slightly, his shoulders slumped. "No, my lady, I assure you that would never be the case."

They continued to walk down the lane, every step bringing them nearer to the fort.

"Perhaps I can travel to Camelot with you, to visit the King," Faustus considered. "Every other noble will, to honour the newborn heir."

"Would you?" Corin asked, looking up at him. "I shall need the moral support."

It was the closest she had come to explaining why she had left the castle in the first place.

Faustus smiled, looked at her oddly for a moment, and then pulled Corin to him in a one-armed hug. "Then moral support you shall have."

_**

* * *

**_

Faustus and Corin were sitting on the terrace in a comfortable, easy silence.

The moon was reflected by the calm waters of Birdoswald Lake, and the air was cold and crisp. They would leave in ten days, to Camelot, and Corin couldn't help dwell on what would happen upon her return.

Was Lancelot waiting for her? Had he found a new love? Or was he still enthralled with the pale queen?

"Corin?"

She made a faint murmur to signal she was listening.

Faustus appeared before her, leaning against the parapet. He looked solemn, lucid, his eyes focused on hers.

"Would you ever consider marrying me, Corin?"

It took a moment for the question to sink in.

"Marry you?" she said blankly.

His lips curved slightly. "Yes, marry me. I love you, Corin."

She swallowed a lump in her throat and stood quickly, crossing to the other side of the battlements.

"Faustus – when? Where did this come from?" she questioned perplexedly.

"I have wanted to ask you for a long time, Corin," the lord said simply. "And I have loved you longer."

She grimaced, pained at his unadorned proclamation of love. She moved close to him and looked over the balcony's edge.

"Faustus, I care for you very much, love you even, but – "

"But your heart is with another. I thought as much," he interjected quietly. "You wait for him to see you?"

Corin shook her head sadly.. "He sees me. But he waits for another."

"A knight?" was the next question.

She nodded. "The one that found me."

She would not say his name.

"One day, Faustus, you will find a woman who deserves you and can return the love you offer," Corin told him, turning to face her friend. "I am not that woman. But I know she will be beautiful and that she will love you more than I ever could. I am sorry I cannot."

The Roman nodded and drew Corin to him in a tight embrace. "I will always be your friend, okay?" he murmured into her hair, tightening his hold on her warm body. "I will always be your friend."

Corin smiled and nodded, wiping her face with the back of her hands.

"You are a wonderful man, Faustus. Someday you will make someone very happy."

"My lord!"

Light spilled onto the terrace as the door was thrown open, revealing a young pageboy, breathless and harried.

"Yes, Ryan?"

"A knight has come, from Camelot, Sir. He says he has ridden all day and brings urgent news to the Lady Corin."

Corin, her eyes wide, rushed past the boy and into the fort, hurrying through the halls until she came to the entrance hall.

"Tristan!"

She flew at the knight, wrapping her arms tightly around him and pelted the dark scout with kisses. He chortled softly and lifted her into the air, his strong arms snug around her waist. "It is wonderful to see you, dove," she heard him whisper quietly to her.

"Why have you come?" she questioned as the knight set her down, and taking one look at his face she knew his answer would not be good.

"Guinevere," he told her bluntly. "The Queen has gone into labour. There are complications and the midwife does not think she will make it. Arthur sent me here, he thinks that maybe you could help…"

But Corin was already rushing out of the room, and within minutes she had returned, two suede saddlebags in hand.

"We must ride through the night," Tristan told her. "We may already be too late."

"We will not be late," Corin said sharply. "Come, we must leave."

_**

* * *

**_

They had been riding for hours.

They had stopped once, to water the horses, and then continued again, speeding through the forests and meadows.

Corin knew that without the constant warnings Tristan gave her of protruding roots or overhanging branches, she and Callisto would have never made it through the night.

Now, the sun was rising in the east, her sharp, golden rays making it difficult for Corin to see ahead.

But Camelot was almost in sight.

Her every bone was aching, the muscles in her legs clenched painfully to prevent her from falling and her head was heavy with the prospect of sleep.

But she knew sleep would not come for many hours.

_**

* * *

**_

They had arrived.

Not pausing to wait for the gates to fully open, Tristan and Corin sped into Camelot. Manoeuvring their horses through the town, they finally came to the doors of the castle.

Leaping off her horse, Corin hurried into the building that had occupied her thoughts for so long on their journey there.

Camelot.

_Lancelot. _

Blocking this from her mind, Corin dashed along the familiar corridors to the Queen's chambers, where she knew Guinevere would be.

Corin, hardly sparing a glance for the tightly clustered knights in the hallway, shed her pale blue cloak and raced into the Queen's chambers, immediately seeking out the midwife.

"It's not much use, my lady," the elder woman told the Greek, not at all startled by her arrival. "She is bleeding too much. We cannot keep both the Queen and the child, perhaps neither."

Determinedly, Corin shook her head. "Nay. I will not allow that to happen. The Pale Lady shall protect them both."

The queen lay under a pile of heavy blankets, shivering and sweating. Her face was ashen and sallow, stretched taught in pain.

"Corin, you have come," she murmured weakly.

The Greek nodded. "Yes. Do not fear, Guinevere, you shall last this day."

Rolling up her sleeves, Corin ignored the dubious looks of the nurses and stepped up to the bed, her cornflower eyes scanning over the bloody mess. "You there, hand me that towel…"

* * *

Many hours later, Corin slipped out into the silent hallway, startling Arthur and his men who had gathered there to support their leader and brother.

"Your wife rests peacefully," Corin said softly, answering the unasked question. "As does your son."

Each knight breathed a sigh of relief, but none so much as the King, whose eyes quickly clouded over with tears. "May I – ?" he said quietly, pleadingly, gesturing to the closed door.

"You may," Corin answered with a small smile, "but please do not disturb Guinevere," she requested. "She has given much for this child and needs her rest."

The King nodded before reaching up to cup Corin's cheek with his hand. "Thank you, Corin," he said, a sole tear trickling down his cheek. "If you hadn't have reached Camelot in time, I don't think – "

"Hush," she interjected firmly. "Do not speak of such things. Go and meet your son."

Smiling brightly, Arthur lay a kiss upon Corin's brow. "And you need to rest. You look terrible."

Nodding, Corin turned to the other knights as the King closed the door behind him. She warmly embraced each in turn, until she reached the end of the line where Lancelot stood leaning against wall. A sheet of pale blue material hung from his hand. There was an awkward pause before Corin gave a weak nod of greeting and turned to the others.

"I'm going to go and get some rest. I shall see you gentlemen in the morn."

And she turned and walked away, feeling more than one pair of dark eyes follow her path down the hall.

* * *

But Corin would find no rest that night.

Her mind was too full of thoughts and memories and dreams; returning to Camelot, to _Lancelot_, and what that could mean.

Standing up, Corin was surprised to find her feet drawn to her old haunt, and when she reached the topmost battlement was glad of the cloudy dark that was there to wrap around her in warmth.

She'd been standing there for a while when a soft voice interrupted her meditation.

"I thought I would find you here."

Corin, half expecting to see Faustus grinning at her, his arms open wide, was surprised to instead find Tristan, stoic as always, standing behind her.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" she asked him over her shoulder.

His lips quirked.

"Shouldn't you?"

She laughed quietly.

"How did you like Birdoswald?" he questioned, moving to stand beside her.

Corin nodded. "They were very nice to me there. Faustus is a good man."

"He is in love with you."

Corin sighed. "Yes. But it will pass."

"Did you miss us?" came his next question.

Corin nodded again. "Of course. How could I not?"

"Even Lancelot?"

"Yes," she said cagily, wary of where the conversation was headed. "Even Lancelot."

"I have never seen a man so broken," Tristan begun, "as Lancelot was when you left us. Left him."

Corin shook her hair back, uncomfortable with Tristan's blunt words. "There is no moon tonight," she ventured, attempting to change the subject. "Not even the stars have come out."

But Tristan would not be diverted.

"He hid it well," the scout told her. "But after years of watching people, you begin to see what others do not."

"Don't mince words with me, knight!" Corin hissed. "What is it that you are telling me?"

"He loves you Corin," Tristan said quietly, gazing down upon the valley. " I do not believe he _ever _loved the Queen at all. Infatuated, yes, enthralled, perhaps. But true love is only the kind that is returned."

"You are quite sure I return it?" Corin asked scornfully.

He laughed. "I saw the way you looked at him tonight. Any half alive person would know that you are in love with Lancelot, Corin."

"And when did you become so wise, Knight?"

His eyes dimmed. "I have lived a long and lonely life, dove, of fighting and pain and suffering. And a life without love is not worth fighting for. That is the only wisdom I can claim."

"But you can you be so sure he loves me, me only?" she now asked.

"I have heard tell that love is blind," he answered, in his clipped, thickly accented tone, his eyes staring far off, beyond Corin, beyond Camelot. "But Lancelot sees Guinevere. And he does not see you. Lancelot sees his world in darkness, and Guinevere his moon. But he forgets that the sun has yet to rise."

She was crying now, freely, and made no move to wipe the tears from her face. "I wish I could just… stop loving him. Stop hurting."

He smiled and placed his hand on her shoulder like a friend, like a brother. Like Acheron would have. "Love won't be tampered with. Love won't go away. Push it to one side and it creeps to the other. Lancelot loves you like his last breath, Corin. Go to him. All you need to do is open his eyes."

**A/N: **Sorry. Is that a bit of a cliffhanger? Heh. "Love won't be tampered with. Love won't go away. Push it to one side and it creeps to the other." – is a quote from Isak Dinesen. Thought it fit nicely. So please review and maybe I'll be nice and post the next (and last) chapter this weekend. Not to bribe you or anything… Hope all you Australians, (if there are any) are having a lovely Easter break.


	16. Clothed with the Sun

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. 

**A/N:**This is terrifying. I'm really scared to do this. I don't want anybody to be disappointed. It's sad. It's like my baby has grown up. There will be a major AN at the end. Could you please read it? Thank you.

**Summary:** Years after the battle on Badon Hill, Lancelot has resigned himself to a loveless life, ever watching from the sidelines. But his hope is slowly restored when he meets a young woman, who fills his world with light, like the rising of the moon.

Crescent Moon

By katemary77

Chapter Sixteen: Clothed with the Sun

_And there appeared a great wonder in heaven; a woman clothed with the sun, and the moon under her feet, and upon her head a crown of twelve stars...  
_ - Bible, Book of Revelation

She walked into his room unannounced.

He was sitting on his bed, his head dropping, the material of her cloak sliding through his fingers.

"Do you love me?"

He looked up. And could not look away.

"Corin, I will love you even after I forget what love is."

She nodded before striding over to the bed and lowering herself onto Lancelot's lap, her legs resting either side of his. Threading her fingers into his dark curls, Corin leant down and gave him a deep, searing kiss. He returned the kiss hungrily, intensely, as if she were the only woman in the world. Her skin tingled with delight when his rough hands swept down her back, coming to rest possessively on her hips.

"Why are you here, Corin?" he choked out when the kiss ended, barely allowing himself to believe she was real and not just some sweetly torturous dream.

She shook her head and kissed him tenderly at the corner of his eye. "The heart has reasons that reason does not understand, Lancelot."

Nodding silently, Lancelot flipped them over until Corin was laying under him, he tracing patterns along her collarbone with his lips. She sighed and impatiently tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor. Her blood was already boiling, her skin burning from his touch.

But then, Lancelot stopped and rolled onto his side, surveying Corin intently through the dark room. Taking a deep breath and lifting his hand to cup her cheek, Lancelot spoke.

"I love you Corin," he murmured tenderly. "You must know this. I love you, and only you." His eyes did not leave hers. "I know… I didn't know that before. But I do now. I thought… I thought she was the only one. But I was wrong. I was blinded. You know this, yes?"

She moved to kiss him, but Lancelot stopped her.

"I don't just want tonight, Corin, I want every night. I want every kiss. I want all of you. I want to be lost in you, never knowing where you begin and I end. I never want to find myself in the dark, cold, without you, ever again." Here, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "I want all of you."

She smiled through her tears and nuzzled his neck. "You can take whatever it is that you fancy, Lancelot."

A smile broke out on the knight's face that could've lit the heavens. He captured her mouth in a sweet, beautiful kiss and laughed, lifting her until she was seated upon him, her hand on his chest.

"You are so wonderful," he whispered, sweeping her hair behind her ears.

Corin's twinkled as she gazed down at him contentedly, letting familiar voice wash over her.

"I don't know how I ever lived without you."

His rough hand wrapped around the back of her neck and brought her down to kiss him.

"Never leave me?"

She placed her hand over his heart.

"Never.

And when they lay, sated and sweaty and still wrapped around each other, a few words were whispered into the cold, frigid night.

"I want to make you my wife, Corin."

She turned on her side and snuggled into her love. "Do you really?"

"Yes," he answered.

Corin smirked. "Are you sure you can devote yourself to one woman?"

"Of course I could!" he retorted indignantly.

"Well, that's nice," came the reply.

Lancelot sighed exasperatedly. "Will you marry me or not?"

"Well, now that you ask…" There was a thoughtful silence. "I'll have to think about it."

"Corin!"

She laughed and sprawled herself across him once again, her legs straddling his waist. "Patience, knight, a woman must not be rushed into these things."

Frustrated, he spun over and pinned Corin beneath him. His eyes darkening, Lancelot's voice changed to a low, smooth timbre. "Marry me, Corin?"

The Greek priestess grinned. "I think I just might."

And then, she kissed him.

The end.

**A/N: **Oh I'm crying. Not because of the story, just because it's really sad to have to finish this. Oh. I hope you all liked it and I didn't disappoint you or anything. I realise this is a very short chapter, but nothing else was necessary. Please review and tell me what you thought.

One huge THANK YOU to all my readers and reviewers. You made this story possible. Thank you so much for your continuous love and support, it really kept me going. I wish I could put all your names here, but I have a tiny inkling that might take a long time. But you all know who you are. Thank you so much!

I hope everybody has enjoyed reading this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. I really have. Out of the stuff I've written, this was my favourite. And such a learning curb. I really have loved it.

As far as my next story goes, I've decided to go with the Tristan/Isolde one. But she's sort of turned into an OFC. But there are Isoldey things in it. I haven't written much at all yet, and I like to have a firm ground before I start posting. But look out for it. I'm also thinking I might use a beta for my next one. Anybody interested? Not only for grammar, spelling, etc, but also to ask if an idea is good, to throw around ideas and to get some critique before I update the story. I've never really had a beta before, but it should be learning experience. Anybody interested? Email me or let me know in a review. I'd have to check you out, make sure I've read your stories and liked them, etc, but I'm not a harsh marker.

The final thing, I'm not sure if any of you have livejournals, but I've recently got one. So if you do have one, let me know, I would love to add you and keep in touch etc etc. That would be cool. You're all wonderful people. So the URL for it is on my profile.

Again, a huge thank you for reading and reviewing. I hope you liked it. Please give me a last review. And let me know about the beta-ing.

Kate.


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